


Decoding

by eyebleed



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Does Not Exist To Me, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko Swears, POV Alternating, Robot!Peko, Robot/Human Relationships, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, the child abuse tag is mostly as a tw it's not a focal point past ch1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyebleed/pseuds/eyebleed
Summary: Peko Pekoyama was built from the ground up, tested and retested, coded to the point of perfection. An android without flaw. An android with one sole purpose: to protect Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. Peko was informed that her existence was the result of a problem. If she contributed to the problem, her existence would no longer be necessary, and she would be replaced. If this upset her, she didn’t notice.
Relationships: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko
Comments: 33
Kudos: 43





	1. Bright Red Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Canon does not exist to me. I will fight K*daka ON SIGHT. I love Peko Pekoyama more than I can possibly say. I think these kids deserve the world and, by God, I'll give it to them.
> 
> It's in the tags, but in case you missed it, TW for child abuse. It's not constant, but it's mentioned. It's discussed off and on throughout this chapter, but the only depiction begins at "A few weeks later, she was overheating" and ends at "“Boss—” Peko whispered, reaching out for his free hand."
> 
> Please leave creator's style on! I've formatted some texts in later chapters that will look weird if you turn it off. 
> 
> All that said, happy reading <3

The Kuzuryu Clan can afford casualties. Over the course of its reign, the family has maintained a simple system for suitable punishment, easily summed up by an eye for an eye. The most effective deterrent is fear, and the most effective punishment is symbolic. A loose tongue will be removed, an overenthusiastic trigger finger will be snapped. No misdeed goes unpunished, no wrongs make a right. Betrayal is anticipated, discovered, and dealt with. 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu was nearly eight years old when he learned the importance of punishment, just a few seconds after the first attempt was made on his life. His nurse turned out not to be a nurse at all, but a mole planted by a rival clan. His mother discovered her holding a knife at his throat, and wrenched the blade from her grip. The blade caught the low light, sending beams in all directions. Years later, Fuyuhiko would claim the light was the reason he closed his eyes. When he opened them, blood was splattered across his face, and the nurse’s hand lay severed on the floor in front of him. Fuyuhiko’s mother tossed the knife at his feet, told him to keep it. 

The next person to target Fuyuhiko was another employee, a maid that poured rat poison into milk. He took one sip and spat it out before swallowing, already familiar with the telltale sour taste. Before calling a doctor, Fuyuhiko’s father pours the poison down the maid’s throat. Fuyuhiko watched this time, hands shaking, spit-up soaking the front of his shirt. 

The Kuzuryu Clan had a problem. Fuyuhiko’s death would be a major inconvenience to the family. They could not allow any harm to come to the heir. They could hire a bodyguard, but people are by nature willing to bite the hand that feeds them. Not willing to risk adding human error to the mix, the Kuzuryus turned to what they had a near-endless supply of: money. Thanks to their affluence and influence, only a year after the second assassination attempt, a solution was found. Or, to put it more aptly, a solution was created. 

Peko Pekoyama was built from the ground up, tested and retested, coded to the point of perfection. An android without flaw. An android with one sole purpose: to protect Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. 

\---

Peko was informed that her existence was the result of a problem. If she contributed to this problem, her existence would no longer be necessary, and she would be replaced. If this upset her, she didn’t notice. Peko’s first conscious moment was unremarkable. She blinked her eyes open and processed a code that ran through her mainframe: _I am Peko Pekoyama. I exist to preserve the safety of the Yakuza Heir._ A purpose. A goal. She accepted the task without question and turned that phrase over in what passed for her mind. The researchers observed her for a few days, but without the heir present, she concluded that there was not much there for her to do. This was deemed an acceptable response. The researchers sent word to Fuyuhiko’s parents, and arrangements were made for the two of them to meet. 

Peko and Fuyuhiko were first introduced when he was ten years old. He knew that she was a robot going into their first meeting, but she looked so much like a real girl that he didn’t really believe it. She was taller and lankier than him, with gray hair plaited into two braids. The only giveaway were her eyes, red and empty, that shined like little flashlights in the dark. If Fuyuhiko was unnerved by this, he didn’t show it. By this point, he had learned that fear would get him a boot to the chest. He stood silent, stared at Peko, who stared right back. The Kuzuryu parents decided that the clear absence of bloodshed was evidence enough that this plan would work out. Peko was posted at Fuyuhiko’s side immediately and indefinitely. 

Peko followed him silently the entire first day. She entered every room ahead of him and braced for impact, then became confused when no impact ever came. She was on high alert for danger, and when no danger presented itself, she resorted to staring at him, unblinking, for hours on end. Fuyuhiko bristled at her presence, he flinched away from her every movement. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, looking at the floor so he wouldn’t have to see her red eyes boring into him. He heard something whirring as she considered her answer. 

“I don’t understand the question.” She stated. Her voice wasn’t robotic, but it was certainly low and scratchy, like it hadn’t been used. “Is my behavior upsetting to you?”

“Yeah, quit staring.”

“Right away, Boss.” She shut her eyes, which was weirder. Fuyuhiko groaned.

“Can you see like that?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Nevermind, stare at me, whatever.”

Peko took this as an order, she opened her eyes and continued to keep them trained on him at all times. He crossed his arms. It was weird. She was weird. 

Peko had been told that, ideally, Fuyuhiko would not feel anything towards her, good or bad. However, it seemed like she had already distressed him in some way. Peko considered this, and concluded that she could still preserve his safety if he didn’t like her. Still, the first time she unsheathed her sword, he recoiled, and she could not help but question if it was the best method for keeping him safe.

\---

Peko was at Fuyuhiko’s side constantly. After a few months of observing him, she made some necessary adjustments to her routine. She stopped constantly holding her sword, instead opting for wearing it strapped to her back. She learned to stop any sudden motion, instead moved slowly, deliberately, like she did when trying (and failing) to call the stray cats that made a home behind the Kuzuryu Compound. Eventually, he relaxed, let her stand near him without flinching. 

By age eleven, he found comfort in her presence, and when he couldn’t sleep he watched her eyebeams dance across the walls. One night, he ran his hand along the wall, chasing the lights with his fingers. 

“What’s it like being a robot?”

She did not have an answer for that question. Her tongue stuttered, malfunctioned. “Lonely.” She watched his hand freeze on the wall, the red beam of her eye hovering just out of reach. She had clearly made some sort of error. In an attempt to correct it, she opened her mouth again. “What is it like being a Yakuza?”

He laughed, an empty sound, and curled his fingers into a fist. “Lonely.”

Peko was not equipped with a response. He knew this, and didn’t wait for one, just kept tracing the path of her eyes on the wall. 

\---

When Fuyuhiko was twelve, the two of them were kidnapped. They were grabbed by men in suits and thrown in the back of a van. The second the trunk was slammed shut, Fuyuhiko began banging his fists against the wall that separated them from the drivers.

“Stop the fucking car!” He screamed, his voice cracking on the last word. “Don’t make me come up there!”

“It’s not wise to escalate the situation.” Peko said, sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor. “If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us by now. We should wait for an opportunity to escape.”

Fuyuhiko froze mid-pummel, his fist just a few inches away from the partition. “I’m making an opportunity. Get ready” He punched the wall again, blood blooming across his knuckles. “Tough guys, aren’t ya? Scared of a couple of kids?” 

The van screeched to a stop. The two of them lurched, Peko tipped sideways, the material of her shoulder scoring scratches across the floor. Fuyuhiko’s head slammed against the partition. He clamped his hand over his face, but Peko saw the telltale shine of a tear forming in the corner of his eye. Not good. She picked herself up off the floor, walked over to him, pantomimed punching the partition. 

“Is this a part of your plan?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He grumbled, still rubbing his head, eyes on the floor.

“I see.” She nodded. “Stand back.” She turned to the partition and hit it as hard as she could. Peko wasn’t particularly strong, but she knew she was built to be durable. The material of her fist colliding with the partition was enough to leave a small dent. 

“Holy shit.” Fuyuhiko dropped his hand to his side, the shock of the impact enough to stop the tears. Outside, the driver’s side door slammed. He turned to Peko. “Alright, the second they open that door, we bolt. Got it?” 

“Got it, Boss.” 

“What the fuck is going on in there?” A muffled voice sounded from outside the door. Fuyuhiko nodded at Peko, and she punched the partition again. The same voice let out a stream of curses, and the lock began to turn. The second the door opened, the two of them bolted toward the exit. Their movement was enough to shock the kidnapper for only a split second, his hand flying for his pistol. Peko moved just as quickly, reaching for her sword but she was too late. The gunman aimed for Fuyuhiko, and Peko didn’t have enough time to gore him, only to twist her body so that he didn’t hit his target. A bullet splintered into her shoulder, sparks spitting in all directions like a firework. She didn’t feel it, didn’t flinch. Stray shrapnel hit the gunman in the eye and sent him staggering backward. Fuyuhiko grabbed Peko’s good hand and dragged her towards the door. 

“I have to finish the job.” She pulled back, looking over her shoulder, but Fuyuhiko just yanked harder.

“One more bullet and you won’t be able to. Let’s _go_.” His hand was wrapped tight around her palm and his eyes were wide with something she couldn’t understand. Fear, maybe. She let him pull her away. They ran until her arm was hanging from her shoulder by a few wires, and then they ducked into a ditch. Peko sat cross-legged, Fuyuhiko flopped down on his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, he was breathing heavily and his heart was beating so hard she could feel his pulse. His hand was still tangled in hers, his knuckles white and fingers trembling. He put his free hand palm-down over his eyes. They sat there like that, her injured arm smoldering until it melted off at the hinge. 

Neither one of them spoke. Peko’s coding was especially thorough when it came to protecting Fuyuhiko, but she had no idea what to do once they got out of the line of fire. She watched his chest rise and fall until his breaths evened out. He kept his hand clamped over his eyes. 

He squeezed her hand. “Stop staring at me.” 

She closed her eyes, but not before she saw a tear leak out from between his fingers. 

They spent the night laying in the ditch. Fuyuhiko barely slept, and Peko didn’t need to. Her eyes were their only source of light, and she kept them on their highest setting despite the detriment to her battery life. 

“I swear to god, if we die from hypothermia I’m going to be so pissed.” Fuyuhiko crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands. 

“Are you cold?” Peko asked.

“What? Yeah, it’s freezing.” His breath spilled out in clouds when he talked. “Don’t you feel it?” 

“No.” She said. “The researchers didn’t think that temperature sensors were a necessary feature for me to have.”

Fuyuhiko wrapped his jacket around him as tightly as possible. “Didn’t they ask you about it?”

Peko shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“That’s stupid. Do you want them?” 

Peko stared at Fuyuhiko. He curled himself up as much as possible, his teeth chattered when he talked, and his lips bordered on blue. “It doesn’t seem fair that you’re cold and I’m not.” She said. 

He laughed, despite everything. “Doesn’t seem fair that you’re warm and I’m not.” 

“What do you mean?” She asked. 

“It feels like you’ve been on fire ever since--” He poked her severed arm with the heel of his shoe. “You know.” 

“Oh. I wasn’t aware.” She looked over at him. He drew his leg back towards him and wrapped his arms around his knees, arms shaking with cold. He was still in his school uniform, the fabric not nearly thick enough to protect him against the elements. Peko tentatively reached out her good arm toward him. He didn’t flinch, just eyed her movement.

“What are you doing?”

“Can I help?” She asked, holding out her arm. 

He instinctively leaned toward the heat source, then pulled himself back. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” She could see the goosebumps on the back of his neck when he turned away from her. 

“You look very cold.” Peko said. 

“It’s weird. It would be weird.”

She cannot fathom what would be weird about guarding him against hypothermia. “Why?”

“Because you’re— I’m— We’re—” Fuyuhiko stammered, half from his chattering teeth and half from the task of explaining middle school gender roles to a robot. He sighed. “You’re a girl.”

She blinked. “Thank you.”

“And I’m—” He gestured to himself, winced at the movement, and crossed his arms.

“—Cold?” She tried.

“No. Well, yeah. But that’s not what I was talking about. Just forget it.” He turned away again.

Peko put her hand on his shoulder. The relief was instantaneous. “I’m not going to let you die of hypothermia.” 

Fuyuhiko sighed, and his breath crystallized in front of him. He slumped back against her. “Fine. But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Of course.” Peko wrapped her arm around his shoulders. It took a few minutes, but he stopped shivering. 

They were recovered by Kuzuryu lackeys the next morning. The goons exited the car to find Peko’s battery in the red, and Fuyuhiko curled up half-asleep with his head on her shoulder. One of them yanked him to his feet and ushered him into the back of the car. The other one pressed a button on Peko’s forearm until her eyebeams winked out. 

“Hey! What the fuck—?” Fuyuhiko started, only to have the door slammed in his face. They scooped up her body and tossed it in the trunk of the car. Fuyuhiko stared out the back window as they sped away, Peko’s arm left behind to rust in the weeds. 

\---

Peko woke up in a freezing room. She felt the cold on her skin. It was jarring, uncomfortable, and completely new. She caught a researcher by the arm. 

“What is this?” She asked. They looked down at her grip on their elbow.

“Your new arm.”

“No.” She shook her head. “The feeling.”

“That must be the temperature sensors.”

“I thought I didn’t need those.” 

“Seems like someone disagreed.” And with that, she was brought into another room for mental training. She was made aware of her failings as a bodyguard. If she had been faster with her sword, having it in hand instead of on her back, the heir would not have been held at gunpoint. 

She wrinkled up her nose. When she held her weapon, Fuyuhiko was jumpy, nervous. He flinched away like she meant to hurt him. She would never hurt him. If the researchers knew of his discomfort, they would not direct her to behave in a way that made him feel unsafe. If she trained harder, she could increase her reaction time in order to make the placement of her sword a nonissue. This would be the best course of action.

She was jolted out of her thought process by a researcher hooking her up to a computer. The screen was projected on the wall so that the research team could all see her code. They began the routine scan of her software, and got about halfway through before a window popped up. Peko heard various murmurs of dissent and lifted her head up to see long strings of red text snaking across the screen. A few seconds later, a hand clamped around her forearm, and she powered down. 

When she woke back up, hours had passed and the room had been mostly cleared. A few researchers stood over her, ignoring that she was conscious. 

“We’ll have to show the Kuzuryus some evidence of improvement if we can’t find a solution.”

“Agreed, it has to be a drastic change. Scrap the arm, she needs a whole new body.” 

“Wha—?” Peko began, voice box slurring.

“Hell, she’s awake.” The first researcher reached for her arm. Everything went black.

\---

By the time Peko’s new body was done, Fuyuhiko had turned thirteen. Countless improvements had been made to her hardware and software. She was noticeably faster, stronger, and more equipped to handle unexpected situations. When she returned to the Kuzuryu Compound, the adults unsurprisingly had no interest in meeting with her. She avoided them, instead made a beeline for Fuyuhiko’s room. She opened the door carefully, so as not to disturb him. He sat at the desk, hunched over his homework and twirling a pencil between his fingers with such fervor it looked like it might snap.

In lieu of announcing her arrival, Peko cut right to the chase. “The researchers have increased my reaction time by approximately 78.2%. I will now be able to keep my sword sheathed without compromising your safety.” 

He flinched so hard he nearly knocked the chair over.

“What did they do to make you walk in dead fuckin silence?” He asked, turning to face her. He’d gotten taller, though not by much, and school had only just started, so he was still left with a light dusting of summer freckles. Peko opened her mouth to answer him, but he held up a hand. “It’s fine, that was rhetorical.” 

Peko nodded, and with no questions to answer, she decided to state the obvious. “You have freckles.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko’s hand flew to the bridge of his nose, as though he’d be able to feel them. “I guess so.”

“And you’re taller.”

“So are you.” He said, looking her over with furrowed brow. “They didn’t braid your hair this time.”

“They did not. I believe they are convinced that I now possess the fine motor skills to do it myself.” 

“Oh.” Fuyuhiko put his hands in his pockets. “Are you gonna? Braid it, I mean?”

Peko blinked, an automatic measure put in place to make her seem less uncanny valley. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“Oh.” Fuyuhiko said again. 

“I could easily braid it, if you prefer-”

“No! Don’t do it on my account, just-” Fuyuhiko buried his hands deeper in his pockets. “How do you wanna wear it?”

Peko felt herself begin to bluescreen. She had trouble with want. She supposed she wanted him to be safe, but that went without saying. Questions about what she desired, liked, or cared for rarely cropped up, but when they did, her skin heated up from how hard her gears were turning. 

“I w-” Her tongue malfunctioned. She turned her phrasing. “Braiding it seems safest.”

Fuyuhiko nodded. “Okay. In that case.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and handed her a small box. Peko took it and looked down at it in confusion.

“What is this?”

Fuyuhiko tugged, red-faced, at the collar of his shirt. The mechanical strain of her coming to a decision must have heated up the room. “It’s a present.” He said, and sighed when Peko didn’t show any recognition. “It’s for you.”

“Oh.” She turned the box over in her hands. “Thank you.”

“You have to open it.”

She was grateful she didn’t have the capacity for embarrassment as she opened the box. Inside were a pair of hair ribbons. They were white, with subtle cream embroidery around the edges. Simple and understated, but undeniably pretty. Peko tilted the box back and forth, and the satiny fabric shined. “Boss, I-”

“Don’t thank me. I just figured since you took a fuckin bullet you at least deserve something nice.” He said, looking at the box, his feet, the wall, anywhere but Peko.

“You don’t need to get me a present.” She said, still watching the way the ribbons caught the light. “I was just doing my job.”

“A job that kept me from getting my brains blown out.” 

Peko hesitated, still staring down at the box in her hands. Fuyuhiko sighed. “Keep them. Please.”

A direct order. Peko nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

Fuyuhiko tugged at his collar again. “Whatever. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t not nothing. Later that day, Peko wove the ribbons into her new braids with clumsy fingers. The plaits were loose and uneven, the bows crooked, but they were hers. She twirled the end of one of the ribbons around her fingers and felt something swell in her chest. For a second, she was afraid that she was malfunctioning. She nearly began the emergency deactivation procedure, but just as quickly as the feeling surfaced, it disappeared. 

\---

Fuyuhiko kept Peko close over the course of the next few years. Natsumi was growing up, officially at the age where she came dangerously close to attracting their parents’ attention. And she _really_ tried to attract it. Natsumi was brash, desperate for any sort of recognition, and completely blind to the consequences of any of her actions. This was by Fuyuhiko’s design. Every time Natsumi acted out, he was there, ready to take the hit. Peko spent countless nights sitting vigil at his bedside, forgoing ice and instead holding the cold surface of her hands over his bruises. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He mumbled, tongue fat and clumsy behind his split lip.

“Let me.” Peko said, pressing the flat of her thumb over his bruising.

“I can’t fuckin talk with your hand on my mouth.” He mumbled.

“Hm. What a shame.” She said, and he snorted. Peko had gotten better at humor. She never meant to be funny, but there was something satisfactory about making Fuyuhiko laugh. A job well done.

“I’ll lick your hand.” He said. 

“I won’t care.”

He licked her hand. She didn’t care. 

“Ew.” He grimaced. 

“I told you.” She said. He shut his mouth and lay there, let her work. She ran her fingertips over his cut, smearing the excess blood away from what was already started to scab. 

“I hate them.” He said. “My parents. I _hate_ them.”

“I know.” 

“I mean it.” Fuyuhiko made eye contact with Peko, the sear of her eyebeams reflected in his irises. His mouth was a thin, bruised line, already purpling from his father’s knuckles and still dripping with the pink tinge of blood. 

The Kuzuryu elders were hypocrites, creating her with the express purpose of keeping their son safe and then going out of their way to hurt him. No matter how many enemies she impaled, she would never be able to protect him from the most omnipresent threat. It would make her sick if she were capable of getting sick, but she wasn’t, so instead it made her overheat. She pulled her hands away from Fuyuhiko’s face and folded them on her lap.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbow. “You can keep poking my face if you want, I don’t really care.”

“No.” She shook her head and laced her fingers together, making them into a little cage in her lap. “I’m overheating, I’ll hurt you.” 

“I can handle it.” He said. 

Peko shook her head. “It’s worse than usual.” She dropped her gaze from Fuyuhiko’s face, the trail of her eye beams slicing across the whites of his eyes.

Fuyuhiko’s eyebrows knit together. “Do you need to go to the lab?”

“No.” Peko said quickly, too quickly. He ducked down to make direct eye contact with her bowed face. “I’m fine.” She said. 

It wasn’t quite a lie, but he recognized the significance of a rushed answer. “Peko, do they—?” He whispered. “Do the researchers—?” 

“They don’t hurt me.” She said, and he stared at her until he figured she wasn't lying.

“Okay. That’s good, at least.” He flopped down on his back and stared at the ceiling. “But you don’t want to go back?”

There’s that word again, want. Peko thought it over, the surface of her skin hot enough that touching it would burn. Fuyuhiko could tell, a thin layer of sweat started forming on his forearms, but he didn't make any motion to move away from her. 

He turned to look at her, the blood on his lip shining in the dim light. She balled her hands into fists. The researchers hadn’t hurt her, but they worked for people who had hurt him.

“No.” She whispered. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I won’t let them take you.”

A few weeks later, she was overheating to the point that no one could enter a room with her without starting to sweat. She was summoned to the Kuzuryus’ office, but heard shouting long before she set foot inside. Fuyuhiko’s voice bounced off the walls like it was trying to find a way out.

“You can’t just send her back there for no reason! She’s fine!” 

Peko stopped in her tracks, all senses on high alert. She hovered outside the door, around the corner, just out of sight. Her hands felt red hot. Fuyuhiko’s mother spoke next. Her voice was harsh, controlled. “If you don’t want us to take away your toy, don’t break it in the first place.”

There was silence for a minute, then Fuyuhiko spoke like the words were forcing their way through his teeth. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

Peko flinched before she even heard the slap. Fuyuhiko’s mother hissed a few more threats, something about knowing his place, but Peko couldn’t fully hear the words over the whirring of her fans. Fuyuhiko ducked out of the room a few minutes later, head bent low and hand clutching the side of his face. 

“Boss—” Peko whispered, reaching out for his free hand. She caught his fingers, and dropped them almost immediately when he cried out. His mother rushed into the hall. Fuyuhiko looked down at his hand, bright red burn marks already blistering across his knuckles.

Peko was sent back to the lab immediately. They didn’t bother to power her down this time, instead opting to take her hands apart while she was awake, layer by layer, piece by piece, and she was struck with the realization that if she were human, this would be torture. But she’s not, and it wasn’t. They threw her hands in the trash, metal still sizzling. She was happy to see them go. 

The researchers took her back to the room with the screens and plugged her into countless machines. She watched her code scroll across the walls, and again it devolved into a wall of red text. Dozens of voices began talking over one another, Peko picked out a few choice phrases:

“...much worse this time.”

“Maybe a new cooling system—”

“...problems multiplying.”

“Perhaps a more in-depth examination will yield—”

Someone reached out and pressed down on Peko’s forearm. Again, her vision winked out.

She woke up, another inch taller and a few degrees cooler, and the researchers left so that she could change into her new clothes. She headed to the waste bin first, and combed through the wreckage of her old body until she pulled out two ribbons. They were crumpled and tinged gray from dirt, but still whole and still hers. She stepped over to the mirror, and started to braid her hair.

\---

Fuyuhiko had turned sixteen by the time Peko returned from the lab. She met him in his room again, and this time he was waiting for her. She looked at his hands before his face, reached out toward them before dropping her arms limply at her sides. That was a bad idea. He held his hands up in front of her, showing her the backs first, then the palms. 

“No scar.” She said, more a question than a statement. 

“No scar.” He nodded. “Fuck this place, but we’ve got one hell of a doctor on call.” Peko tore her gaze away from his hand and the gold rings he had begun wearing in place of brass knuckles. No scar. It felt wrong somehow, between that and her new body, it was almost like they’d erased all evidence that she had done anything wrong. 

“I’m so sorry.” She said, her voice box wavering on the last word. It wasn’t enough, she didn’t think anything would be enough. 

“No,” He shook his head, “I’m sorry I got you sent back to that place.”

“It’s not your fault.” She said. And she believed it. She knew he didn't. He looked at her like he could see the gears turning, and he couldn’t, but he could probably hear them. 

“Peko. Did they hurt you?” He asked. 

“No.” She said, but he kept looking at her. “They just made me taller.”

He smiled a little. “They’re never gonna let me catch up, huh?”

She smiled back despite herself, which was strange, and there was that swelling feeling in her chest again, which was stranger. The researchers told her that it was a side effect of those error messages, another stubborn flaw that no amount of coding could seem to correct. 

Thankfully, they didn’t get another chance to try. A few days later, Fuyuhiko and Peko received acceptance letters from Hope’s Peak. The Kuzuryus entered into tense negotiations with the headmaster, and a few weeks later, Natsumi got her acceptance letter as well. She announced it by tearing into Fuyuhiko’s room. 

“Bet you thought you were getting rid of me!” She waved the letter in his face, and despite the motion, _Reserve Course Student_ was printed in such thick ink that Peko could read it from across the room. 

“Congrats.” Fuyuhiko said, like a huge weight wasn’t being lifted from his chest at that very moment. “Now get out of my room.”

“Fine. But don’t get too attached to your title, I’m bringing my bat and I’m going to bust so many kneecaps that they give me your diploma.”

“Take it, it’s yours.”

Natsumi headed to the door, yelling over her shoulder. “I’m doing this the old-fashioned way. Hope you’re not too attached to your pinkies!” 

Fuyuhiko watched the door close behind her, but still jumped when it slammed shut. Peko turned to him from her seat in the armchair. “Boss, correct me if I’m wrong—” 

“No.” He says, “And don’t call me that.”

Peko sighed. He’d changed. Not in a bad way, just in a way she couldn’t understand. He encouraged her to drop formalities, to allow room for malfunctions. She couldn’t allow that, couldn’t risk bringing any attention to herself. Or to him. But still, every day, she discovered a new glitch. Most of them were only noticeable to her: that ache in her chest, the heat in her palms. She could handle things like that, easily concealed flaws that just make her more convincingly human. That clench in her chest may as well be a heartbeat. When her hands overheated, they almost felt real. 

Like now. She stared at Fuyuhiko, hands and face inexplicably warm. He sat at his desk again, poring over documents he might need to bring to school. He tugged sharply at his tie, the way you’re supposed to pull at someone’s pinky to break a chokehold. There was that stubborn pang in her chest. She tried again. “Can I ask you something?”

He let go of his tie and looked up at her. “Sure.”

“I thought Natsumi was too young to attend Hope’s Peak?”

“Yeah,” He said. “The headmaster thought so too, but we made him see reason.” Peko nodded, he caught the solemn look on her face. “No one hurt the guy, I just threw a bitch fit.”

“I see. I’m glad it worked.” 

“He didn’t really have a choice.” Fuyuhiko said, turning back to his desk. “It was both of us or neither of us.” He sighed, shaky on the exhale. “I’m just glad she’s getting out of here.”

Peko nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a bit, Fuyuhiko glared down at papers like they had wronged him. He passed the useful ones to Peko, which she shuffled easily into an alphabetized stack. She watched him work, the ghost of her eyebeams drifting across his face. 

By this point, he was used to her staring. Peko always looked at him like she was trying to solve some sort of cipher. Like the answer to the Da Vinci code was hidden somewhere in his freckles. He tried to keep his eyes on the documents, but they were confusing and badly sorted and why the fuck was he the one that had to keep the books anyway? He glanced up at her without thinking, and sure enough, she was staring, the soft lights of her eyes flickering like candles. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Fuyuhiko asked.

“I’ve realized something.” Peko said, shrugged her sword bag from her shoulders and layed it across the bed. “Once we’re at Hope’s Peak, I’ll finally be able to fulfill my job requirements.”

Fuyuhiko put the stack of paper down on his desk. “What are you talking about?”

Peko looked around the room, her eyes tracing red trails over the walls. She lowered her volume. “Permission to speak freely?”

Fuyuhiko took the hint and leaned in. “Yeah, Always.”

“I can’t protect you from them.” Peko nodded in the direction of Fuyuhiko’s parents’ room. 

“That’s not your fault.”

Peko just stared at him. He blinked, and saw her eye beams on the insides of his eyelids. “Let me promise you something.” She said, the volume of her voice box so low that he had to strain to hear it. “Once we leave this place, I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” She said the words carefully, like they might break in her mouth. 

“Peko, we’re getting out of here. You don’t have to keep—”

“I want to protect you.” She whispered. She said ‘want’ clumsily, like she didn’t quite know how, but she said it. 

Fuyuhiko looked down at her hands, which were strangling the hem of her skirt. He reached out, his hand hovering just a few inches away from hers, close enough to feel the soft warmth radiating from beneath her artificial skin. “Okay.” He said, and allowed himself to fold his hand over hers. “But only if you let me do the same for you.”

Peko’s eyes snapped down to look at his hand, then back up to his face. “I can’t let you do that. If—”

“You’ve done enough for me already, let me return the favor.” He said, and he could hear the soft whirring sound of her gears racing. Her hand heated up, not enough to hurt, but enough for beads of sweat to form on his palm. He held her hand tighter, put his other hand over hers. “Please.”

She looked back down at their hands. Hers was turning pink with heat, his was clammy, but unscarred. Peko felt her tongue malfunction before she even opened her mouth. “Okay.” She whispered.


	2. Red-Faced

It had been a quick, simple glitch, so miniscule that it really shouldn’t have any bearing on anything. And yet, Peko spent the next few months convinced that she would be found out and sold for scrap. Every time she heard footsteps in the hallway, she froze, waited for the inevitable fade to black. She kept one hand on her sword at all times, the slightest noise enough provocation for her to unsheathe it. Fuyuhiko noticed, it was hard not to, and kept her posted in his room every night. He locked the door. 

“No one’s gonna break the door down, they know I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.” He said, tucking his gun under his pillow for emphasis.

It was a small comfort. Not the gun, but his presence. She sat in the dark and listened to the quiet sound of him breathing. No one broke the door down. No one ever even knocked, besides Natsumi. Still, Peko felt a sense of impending doom, a sinking feeling in her stomach to accompany the clench in her chest. 

Months passed, and they made it through the summer together. Fuyuhiko turned seventeen with little fanfare. The day before they were set to leave for Hope’s Peak, Peko was sent back to the lab for routine maintenance. Fuyuhiko went with her. It was an unspoken arrangement, she expected to see him there, and so he was. He sat in the corner, set his gun on the table in front of him, and glared at the lead researcher. 

Peko was in and out of the lab in record time. They already had a new body ready, it was just a matter of fitting her new parts over the core processor. There was no artistry to the way they dismantled her. Fuyuhiko watched them, fingernails digging into his palm, as they ripped her skin off with all the quick efficiency of removing a bandaid. They wrenched off one of her arms, bent it backwards until it split from the shoulder with a sickening snap. Fuyuhiko almost didn’t make it to the sink before he vomited. 

His forehead hit the faucet as he dry heaved, his empty stomach tried its best to invert. A muffled snap sounded from beyond the bathroom door, and his gut clenched again. He turned on the faucets as high as they’d go and focused on the sound of the water running. It wasn’t enough. He spit into the sink.

He stayed there for what seemed like an agonizing amount of time, watching the water spiral down the drain and willing himself to think about something, anything that wasn’t Peko getting torn to shreds outside. Finally, there was a soft knock on the door.

“What?” He asked.

“It’s me.” She said.

Oh shit. He wiped his mouth. “Come in.” 

The door swung open. He looked up at Peko, who stood in the doorway, newly upgraded and in one piece. She had to be at least half a head taller than him at this point, and they’d sharpened out her features a bit. Her hair hung loose, just past her shoulders, she clutched her ribbons in her hand. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, and he managed a nod in response. 

He spat in the sink one last time, but the acidic taste of bile still lingered in his mouth. He turned the faucets off and started for the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

The ride back was quiet, Fuyuhiko exiled the driver by rolling up the partition, then chugged a bottle of water. He leaned back against the headrest, eyes drifting over to look at Peko. She was turned away from him, staring out the window and braiding her hair. She did it slowly, probably more so than necessary. Fuyuhiko could see the influence of her swordplay in the way she did delicate tasks. Each twist of her wrist was deliberate, practiced, not one hair out of place. She wove the ribbons into the braids as she worked, flashes of bright white peeking out between silver strands. 

Fuyuhiko didn’t think before he asked, the question just fell from his lips. “Does it hurt?” 

She stopped mid-twist. “Braiding my hair?”

“No. Fuck. Not that, I mean—” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, back toward the lab. “All that.”

Peko stopped to think about it. She had been told many times that she didn’t feel pain. “No.” She tried to keep the conversation going the best way she knew how, by asking questions. “Does vomiting hurt?”

He screwed up his face at the reminder. “Well it doesn’t feel _great_.”

“I’m sorry, Boss.” She said, tying off her braid. “I wasn’t aware that the sight would be so…” She paused, searched for the right words. “...Unpleasant.”

“It’s not your fault.” Fuyuhiko watched her smooth out the bow with her fingertips. “And don’t call me that.”

She turned to look him in the eye. “What else would you have me call you?”

He downed the last few drops from the water bottle, then let it fall to the floor of the car. “How about my name?”

It’s a nice thought, if an impossible one. Fuyuhiko, Peko thought. Thinking it was safe, thinking it was possible. It sounded soft when others said it, like it would roll off the tongue. Fuyuhiko. She looked at him, and he was staring down at the water bottle as it rolled across the floor. Fuyuhiko. It was a pretty name. It suited him. His name climbed up her throat and sat there. Not insistent, just waiting patiently. She opened her mouth, but every time she tried to say it, the word got stuck behind countless layers of code. 

“I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you—” His eyes widened. “Oh. Oh shit, I didn’t think—”

“It’s in my coding, I can’t refer to you so informally.” She looked down at her lap, laced her fingers together. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not.” He leaned against the window, the glass cool against the side of his head. It’s not her fault, he knew that. It was the researchers. Worst than that, it was the people commanding the researchers. His fucking parents. Every goddamn thing that’s wrong in his life was their fault. That familiar bubble of rage started to churn in his stomach. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out, let the wind wash over his face. 

\---

They left for Hope’s Peak before the sun even rose. A few people gathered to see them off, but Fuyuhiko’s parents were noticeably absent from the group. 

“Thank fucking god,” He said, throwing a suitcase into the trunk. “I didn’t want to see their faces anyway.” He said it with confidence, but there was a certain tightness to his jaw that didn't subside until well after they left the city.

The car pulled up to the campus in the afternoon. The power-washed bricks of the buildings were bright in the afternoon sun. Hope’s Peak Academy resembled a college campus more than a high school. The buildings were old, but so well-maintained that their age added to their grandeur instead of detracting from it. The school was so exclusive that each student got their own single dorm, which Peko was grateful for. She wasn’t sure how she would explain her lack of sleep to a roommate. She spent the first day unpacking. She didn’t have any decorations, so she hung her sword on the wall above her bed. It looked nice. It wasn’t practical. She took it down. 

That night, she plugged herself into the wall to charge and sat on the bed. The room was empty, she realized. There was furniture, of course, but nothing else. She had no decor, and her possessions were pretty much limited to her sword, some clothes, and a few volumes of trashy manga. All of a sudden, the room felt entirely too big for such a small space. She thought of Fuyuhiko’s room back at the Kuzuryu compound. It was much bigger than her dorm, but it never felt nearly this empty. 

She pictured him in his dorm. Maybe it felt empty, too. It seemed presumptuous to assume that, but the possibility existed nonetheless. Still, she never felt lonely in a room with him. Peko got an idea, a dangerous one for most teenagers, but relatively tame for a yakuza’s bodyguard. She grabbed her sword, her charging cord, and slipped out of the room.

The boys dormitories were incredibly easy to break into. She sidled past the front desk, keeping to the shadows to ensure that she didn't catch the attention of the security guard. They didn’t even glance in her direction. It was lucky in the moment, but didn’t bode well for Fuyuhiko’s overall safety. Peko frowned. It was a good thing that she noticed these dangers before the semester began. This would give her a few days to come up with a solution. 

She wandered the halls for a while, grateful that some RA had taken it upon themselves to put a nametag on every door. She found Fuyuhiko’s room tucked away in a corner of the third floor. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was tailing her, then knocked. There was some shuffling inside, and then she heard Fuyuhiko’s voice, gruff and muffled by the door. 

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” She said. The lock clicked, and the door opened. Fuyuhiko was in his pajamas: a big T-shirt and sweatpants. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. Something in her chest somersaulted. Yet another glitch.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yes.” She said. “Although the security force at this school leaves much to be desired.”

He scoffed. “You’re telling me. They let _Natsumi_ in earlier.” He looked at Peko, sword in one hand and charging cord in the other. ”Let me guess. Couldn’t sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.” 

“I know, I was— nevermind. What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but right after she said it, the realization dawned on her. She missed him. The next realization hit even harder. She couldn’t possibly tell him that. She decided on a half-truth, something that skimmed the edges of what she wanted to say. “I was worried about you.”

“Oh.” He said, and then opened the door the rest of the way. “Well. Come in.”

His room looked like it had been turned inside out. Boxes were piled up in corners, some half-empty and others already unpacked and flattened. The desk and the dresser were covered in clutter, mostly clothes that had yet to be folded. “Sorry about the mess.” He said, kicking loose clothes out of the way as he led her into the room. “I gave up on unpacking halfway through.”

“It’s alright. Is there somewhere I can charge?” 

Fuyuhiko looked around for an outlet, before realizing that almost all of them were obscured by clutter. “Yeah, one second.” He held out his hand, and Peko gave him her charger. He plugged it into the wall, and she rolled up her sleeve to plug the other end into her forearm. She stood there, motionless, feeling the energy seep back into her body. Fuyuhiko looked at the cord. It wasn’t short, but it wasn’t long either. He looked around the room, no easily accessible surfaces in sight. She’d have to sit on the bed. That was fine, right? Friends share a bed all the time. It wouldn’t be weird. He wouldn’t make it weird. He would be completely normal about the whole thing. 

“Hey,” He said. “If you want to stay, I think you’ll have to sit on the bed.” Peko’s head snapped up. Oh god, he was going to make it weird. “Only if you want to! It’s no big deal. Unless it’s a big deal to you, and if it is, fuck, I can sleep on the floor—”

“I don’t mind.” Peko said. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“That’s. Yeah, that’s fine.” He watched her sit down on the edge of the bed. Her back was perfectly straight, her hands folded in her lap, and she was still wearing her everyday clothes. Operation: Be Normal kicked back into full gear. “Do you want me to go get your pajamas?”

“I don’t have any pajamas.” She said. 

“Like, at all?” He asked. She shook her head. “Do you want some?” 

She blinked at him. “Okay.”

He sifted through a few piles of clothes before finding some things that might fit her, and handed them over. She took them solemnly, like he had just handed her a fragile, ancient thing. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He tried to put his hands in his pockets, realized that his sweatpants didn’t have pockets, and just wiped his hands on his thighs. Peko stared down at the clothes, ran her thumbs over the fabric. 

“Turn around.” She said. Fuyuhiko complied on instinct.

“Okay. Why?” He asked. 

“So I can change.”

He let out a noise that only sounded a little bit like he was being strangled. A small victory. “No, let me just— I’m gonna go stand in the hallway, right now actually.” 

“Alright.” Peko said, and he went for the door. He began wading through the sea of boxes, but his foot caught on the corner of something before he could make it to the door. He stumbled a couple of steps, his shoulder knocking against a lamp, which he caught by the neck. So much for ever being mistaken as normal.

“Are you alright?” Peko asked. There was a note of amusement in her voice that would be hard to detect in anyone else’s tone, but Peko’s usual lack of inflection made any minute changes stand out like blood on a white background. 

“I’m fine.” He set the lamp down, gave her a thumbs up, and just before the door closed behind him, heard her let out a quiet laugh. He leaned back against the closed door, ran his hands through his hair and sighed, narrowly resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall. “Real fuckin smooth, Kuzuryu.” He whispered. 

So he made it weird. Of course he did. And she laughed at him, which stung a little bit. He’d never even heard her laugh before. He stopped tearing at his hair. Wait, that changed everything. He made her laugh, maybe for the first time. Fuck being normal, he’d go back in there and make a complete fool of himself if it meant she’d laugh again. It wouldn’t be hard, something about Peko just made him act like an idiot. His mouth worked faster than his brain and his heart hammered a mile a minute and he forgot to check their surroundings because he couldn’t stop looking at her and—

Wait. 

Oh no. 

Oh _no_.

Back inside, Peko unplugged the charger from her arm and began to change. Fuyuhiko had given her a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. She pulled the pants on first, then unfolded the shirt and slid it over her head. It was light blue and well-worn, the name of an old softball team written across the chest. She could tell it must be big on him, because it was even a little loose on her. She wrapped her arms around her torso, the fabric soft against her skin. That now-familiar pang twinged in her chest, and she smoothed the front of the shirt down, felt her chest vibrating even through the fabric. That was new. She frowned, dropped her hands to her sides, and waited for the feeling to pass. 

“You can come back in.” She said.

Fuyuhiko opened the door. Peko was sitting on the bed, charging. He was standing in the doorway, having a heart attack.

Her back was against the pillows, legs stretched out in front of her. His sweatpants were a little too short on her, he could see the strip of skin between where the pants ended and her socks began. Her eyelights looked even more red next to the blue shirt, and they seemed to shimmer in the low light. She had taken her hair down, and it fell just past her shoulders in the sort of pretty, imperfect waves that came from braids. Her ribbons sat on the side table, layed out next to each other in perfect parallel lines.

“Thank you,” She said. “The shirt is very soft.”

He walked to the bed without tripping, considered it a win. “You can keep it, if you want.” 

She looked down at the shirt. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” As if there was anything in the world he wanted more than for her to be comfortable.

“Nah,” Fuyuhiko said. “It looks better on you anyway.” Peko’s hand flew to her chest and he nearly bit off the tip of his tongue. “It fits you, I mean. It fits you better than me.” 

She ran her finger along the edge of the shirt’s neckline and tugged at it, a habit she picked up from him. “Okay,” She said, a small smile at the edge of her lips. “I’ll keep it.”

“Good.” He said, nodding as though they’d agreed on a binding contract. “You sure you don’t want anything else? I have, uhh,” He surveyed the room. “Boxes. And more boxes.” He started ticking them off on his fingers as he listed, and Peko ducked her head to try to hide a smile. The joke was stupid, but there was no way he was shutting up now. He slapped a hand over his forehead. “Oh, how could I forget, even more fuckin boxes? If you take some off my hands we could almost make this room habitable.”

She looked around the room. “Between the two of us, I think we could ignore _double_ the boxes in here.” 

“Okay, yeah.” He was stalling. It was surreal. There was only one bed. She was beautiful. He bit the inside of his cheek, because that was a forbidden thought that he refused to have. Back to Operation Normal. Back to burying any and all feelings ten feet below sea level and filling them over with concrete. That way he could share a bed with her without stirring up whatever the fuck kind of emotional crisis he definitely _wasn’t_ having right now.

He stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her, silently asking for permission. She moved to allow him more room, and he crawled in next to her. Even with him trying his damndest to keep a respectful distance and then some, their arms were still pressed together. It was at this point that they realized a twin bed wasn’t made for two people. 

“I can sit on the floor, if you like.” Peko said.

“I wouldn’t.” Fuyuhiko said, too quickly. “I mean. You don’t have to do that. Let me just—” He turned on his side, facing her. She was laying on her back, hands folded over her stomach. She reached up to remove her glasses, charging cord still plugged into her arm, and set them on the side table. She turned her head to look at him, eyebeams drifting across his face. 

“Am I overheating?” She asked. 

They were only a few inches apart, but he couldn’t feel any heat radiating off of her. “I don’t think so?” He answered.

“Are you sure?” She furrowed her brow. “Your face is red.” 

His hand flew to cover his face. “It’s not you. It’s nothing. It just. Does that. On its own, for no reason.”

She reached out slowly, her hand hovered a few inches from his own. She waited for him to stop her. When he didn’t, she gently pulled his fingers away from his face. “Are you feeling alright?” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him, concern written across her features.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” At this distance, he could hear the faint whirring of her processor. It was calming, like white noise. “But I should sleep.”

“Of course.” She nodded, and lay back down. “I’ll be here, if you need anything.”

“Same here. Wake me up for anything, okay?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, entirely convinced that she could hear his heart pounding. “Hey Peko?” He whispered.

“Yes?” 

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” She turned on her side so that she faced him. He could feel the soft warmth of her eyebeams tracing the outline of his face. He cracked his eyes open, and sure enough, she was staring at him. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Like I’d ever turn you away.” He murmured, his eyes falling closed. “What time is it?”

“My internal clock reads 3:04am.”

“Fuck. Alright, Goodnight Peko.”

“Goodnight.”

Peko listened to the sound of his breathing until it deepened, evened out, and he was undoubtedly asleep. He was curled up on his side with his hand tucked under his head, a habit formed from years of keeping a pistol beneath the pillow. She’d seen him sleep before, of course, but never this close. He looked relaxed, a welcome difference from how he usually was when he was conscious. His eyelids fluttered, and she wondered if he was dreaming. She wondered what it was like to dream. A few hours later, he rolled over and wrapped an arm around her waist. Something behind her face heated up immediately. She closed her eyes, pressed on her forearm, and let herself power down.

Fuyuhiko woke up ungodly early with a mouthful of hair, his face pressed into Peko’s neck and his arm slung across her midsection. It took approximately one second for him to process exactly how badly he fucked up. He jerked his head backward, nearly cracking the top of his skull against the headboard in the process. At that moment, he heard the telltale sound of her gears beginning to turn as she powered on. “Shit.” He whispered, trying to get out of the position they were in, his frantic movements just further tangling him in the blankets. The whirring got louder, and Peko’s eyes opened, beams not yet fully lit. She didn’t make any effort to move, just squinted at him. “Is everything okay?” 

“Fuck, I am so sorry.” He said, kicking the comforter off of him. “I didn’t mean to get all in your space, seriously. This is just a small bed, and— this was a bad idea in the first place. Hold on.” He began to kick off the sheets, but Peko caught him by the wrist. He froze, halfway out of the bed, still clutching the blanket.

“Where are you going?” She asked. She was laggy from powering on, her voice low and slow and confused. 

“To sleep on the floor.” He said, like it was obvious. 

She looked him in the eye, hers now fully lit. They weren’t bright enough to strain his vision, just a soft glow, like Christmas lights. “Stay.” She said, voice quiet. “Please.” Fuck. There was an open intensity on her face, the kind of expression that she reserved only for him, and her hand felt warm on his arm. He loosened his death grip on the blanket, took a deep breath. In that moment, he simultaneously opened his mouth and signed his death warrant.

“Okay.”


	3. Candy-Red

It became a part of their routine. They spent the day apart, attending classes and doing homework and acting as though they had no ties to one another whatsoever. At night, Peko would sneak over to Fuyuhiko’s room, and they’d drop the charade. Peko ended up spending more of her waking hours with Natsumi, who made a point to pull Peko into her group of friends. 

“I’m not letting you turn into one of those losers that eats lunch alone.” Natsumi said, dragging Peko into the cafeteria. “If word gets out that you’re Kuzuryu-affiliated AND a fucking dweeb, my social status will plummet.”

“I don’t eat.” Peko protested, dragging her heels, but Natsumi just yanked harder on her arm.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily.” Natsumi pulled Peko through the door to the cafeteria. “You’re gonna not-eat with the cool kids.” 

The cool kids turned out to be Ibuki, Mikan, Mahiru, and Hiyoko. After a few seconds of interacting with them, Peko suspected that they weren’t actually cool, but she didn’t know enough about coolness to pass definitive judgement. It took a few weeks, but Peko learned to feel comfortable around them. They were all odd in their own ways, which made them quick to write off Peko’s robot eccentricities as personality quirks on par with their own.

“You’re so stoic.” Ibuki told her, about a foot too far into her personal space. “Really, you’re like a knight in shining armor! You could sweep a girl right off her feet.” 

Peko furrowed her brow. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

Hiyoko snickered into her hand. “God, someone’s oblivious.”

“If you’re trying to flirt with Peko, you’ll have to be more direct,” Natsumi said, waving her chopsticks in Ibuki’s direction. “You could do it for like, seven years, and she wouldn’t notice.”

“Okay!” Ibuki turned to Peko, her goofy grin conveyed the kind of confidence that most people could only dream of having. “Peko, I am flirting with you.”

“Oh.” Peko looked down at Ibuki’s food as though she’d find the correct response hidden among her apple slices. “Thank you.”

Hiyoko’s face nearly split in half from her schadenfreude smirk. “Oof.”

Ibuki waved a hand at Hiyoko, who swatted it out of her face. “It’s fine! Just because Peko has bad taste in romantic partners does not mean that we can’t be best friends.” Ibuki slung her arm around Peko’s shoulders. “I respect you despite your flaws.” She said, eyes wide with sincerity.

“Stop it, you’re going to freak her out.” Mahiru said, following Hiyoko’s lead and slapping Ibuki’s hand back. “Maybe wait a few days before you hit her with the full force of your blinding personality?”

Ibuki puffed up her chest. “Ibuki Mioda will never tone herself down to appeal to the masses! My blinding personality is what makes me a fan favorite!”

“I like your personality, Ibuki.” Mikan said, head bowed low as she pokes at her bento. 

“She’s not gonna date you, pigshit.” Hiyoko rolled her eyes. “God, I can smell your desperation from here.” 

“Hey!” Natsumi said, slamming her chopsticks down on the table, causing Mikan to jump. “Be nice.” 

“Or what?” Hiyoko smiled, rested her chin in her hands. 

“I don’t know.” Natsumi shrugged. “I guess I’ll kill you.” 

Mahiru tensed up, but Hiyoko just rolled her eyes. “Real original, Miss Yakuza. Really, I’m sooo scared.” 

“I don’t need you scared.” Natsumi said, “The less on guard you are, the easier it’ll be for me to swing a bat through your kneecaps.” She made a swinging motion with her chopsticks, sending a few grains of rice flying through the air. Mikan flinched away from the projectiles. 

“That’s enough.” Mahiru said, putting her hand on Mikan’s shoulder. “Let’s just have a normal lunch, for once. Please? Can we do that?” Peko nodded. Ibuki shook her head. Hiyoko and Natsumi glared at each other. Mikan let out a whimper. 

“Whatever.” Natsumi went back to her lunch. Mahiru continued to pat Mikan on the shoulder, her eyes focused on Natsumi, her mind a thousand miles away. Peko stared at Mahiru’s comforting hand, and reached her own out for Natsumi’s shoulder. Natsumi tensed up, not unlike her brother, but didn't shake Peko off. Peko patted her twice, what she estimated was a normal amount of support for a human girl to show her friend. Natsumi raised an eyebrow at her. Peko raised an eyebrow back. Natsumi’s mouth curled into a small smile. “He’s really rubbing off on you.” 

“What do you—?”

“Why are you whispering?” Ibuki shoved her head between the two girls. “Are you sharing secrets already? Can Ibuki know?”

“Mind your business!” Natsumi snapped, and opened her mouth to unleash what would no doubt be a Patented Kuzuryu Chewout, but she was interrupted before she could even get to the first expletive.

“What’s going on here?” A voice said from behind Peko. “Oooh, are you guys fighting? Mind if I join?”

Peko swiveled in her seat to see a girl standing behind her. Her hair was bleached blonde and pulled high into twintails cinched with scrunchies. Her outfit was loud enough to be dress coded, but her glare was biting enough to stop anyone who would dare to consider it. She locked eyes with Peko. Peko had seen the Yakuza shove countless informant’s heads beneath running water, holding them there until they were just past ready to talk. The girl’s eyes reminded her of that water: dishwater blue, icy, and deceptively deep. Peko felt her hands go cold in her lap. She would not make the mistake of every informant before her. The water was not what was dangerous, it was the person pushing you under. 

The girl extended a hand to Peko. “I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure. I’m Junko Enoshima, the Ultimate Gyaru. Mind if I sit?” Peko moved with the same instinct that activated when she reached for a weapon, but Enoshima easily intercepted her hand and shook it. Her fingernails were painted candy-red and filed so sharp they could rival Peko’s sword. Enoshima didn’t wait for a response, just sat down between Peko and Hiyoko. 

“Hey, watch it!” Hiyoko said, pulling her bento away from Enoshima’s pointy elbow. “We never sai-”

“Hold on.” Enoshima said, silencing Hiyoko with a wave of her hand. Mikan’s head snapped up. Enoshima propped her elbows up on the table, rested her chin in her red-tipped hands. She looked across the table at Mikan, a painstakingly lipsticked smile spreading across her face. “What’s your name?”

Mikan turned around to check that there was no one behind her. Natsumi facepalmed. “Me?” She asked

“Yes, you.” Enoshima nodded, her pointer finger tapping against her cheek. 

“Mikan. Mikan Tsumiki. I’m, uh, the Ultimate Nurse?” She spoke like she was asking permission. Enoshima’s grin widened. 

That night, Peko snuck into the boys dorms, a skill that she had honed to the point of perfection. Fuyuhiko knew she was coming, he was used to it by now, and he opened the door before she even knocked. It was earlier than usual, they had some time before bed so Fuyuhiko busted out a deck of cards. They sat cross-legged on the bed, and he handed them over to her. 

“Should we make a bet?” Fuyuhiko asked, watching Peko shuffle the deck. It was a point of pride for her, she had become so used to delicate tasks that she could maneuver the cards with ease. She did a Hindu shuffle, overhand shuffle, washed the cards, then squared the deck. 

“Sure.” Peko handed half of the cards to Fuyuhiko, exactly half. “What are we betting?”

“Dealer’s choice.” He said, “So, whatever you want.”

Peko leaned forward, tapping the edge of her deck against her chin. “Whatever I want?” 

“Whatever you want.” He fanned a few cards between his fingers. “You should know that I _will_ put out a hit on anyone, but putting the fate of someone’s life on a deck of cards seems kinda unfair to the cards.” He pulled one out of his deck and held it up next to his face, suit facing him. 

“You’re joking.” She said, no accusation, all observation.

He flipped the card around. Ace of hearts. “You got me.” 

She pulled the top card from her deck and flipped it over. Queen of hearts. “It’s yours.” She gave him the card, and he shuffled it into the bottom of his deck. 

“But seriously, what are we playing for?” He asked. “Keep in mind that I’m winning.” 

“Not for long.” Peko flipped over the king of spades. Fuyuhiko looked down at his card, frowned, and handed her the six of hearts. “If I win, you have to stop hogging all the blankets.”

Fuyuhiko groaned. “I told you, I can’t help it!”

“I thought you said whatever I want.” Peko flipped over the seven of clubs. Fuyuhiko held out an eight of spades.

“I figured you’d pick something that was possible.” He said, taking the card. “Do you even need blankets?”

No. “Yes.” 

Fuyuhiko raised an eyebrow at her. Peko straightened her back. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

He shuffled his deck. “Well, if we’re talking principle, then if I win you have to stop boxing in your sleep. You’re gonna take my eye out.”

At the mention of eyes, Peko rolled hers. “My apologies. I’m sure that I would glitch less violently if I had something to weigh down my arms.” She held up the ace of diamonds. “Like a blanket, perhaps.” 

Hiko looked down at his card. Three of clubs. “Motherfucker.”

“You have an excellent poker face.” She said. 

“When did you get so sarcastic?” He handed over the card. 

“Hard to say. Somewhere around the time you got so bad at War.” She tucked the card into the bottom of her deck, a slight smile on the edge of her lips. Fuyuhiko’s competitive streak melted down right next to his heart. 

“Fine,” He said, throwing up his hands in mock outrage. “I’ll agree to your terms, just don’t count the cards.” 

“I am physically incapable of not counting the cards” She said, frowning. “Celestia Ludenberg is very mad at me.”

Fuyuhiko laughed. “Well, if she can stay mad at you, she’s crazy.” 

“You think so?” She smiled.

“Yeah. But everyone here is batshit.” He shrugged. 

Peko paused mid-shuffle, looked down at her hands. “Speaking of.”

“What?” He asked. “Am I winning?”

“No, I just meant to ask you something. Have you heard of Junko Enoshima?” 

“The Ultimate Gyaru?” He asked. 

“Yes.” Peko nodded, and they both flipped over a card. Hers was a four of spades, his was a seven of clubs. He took both cards. “What do you think of her?” She asked.

“I don’t.” He shrugged. “I mean I’ve seen her around, but we’re not exactly acquainted.” Peko flipped over the king of diamonds. Hiko looked at the top card in his deck and grimaced, then handed over a four of the same suit. “Why? Is she bothering you?”

Peko paused, hand hovering over her deck. “I’m not sure.” She traced the edge of the cards with her thumb. “I don’t think so.”

“What did she do?” 

“Nothing.” Peko said. “That’s the problem, actually.” She flipped a card over. Nine of diamonds. “She sat with us at lunch today. It was strange, there’s something about her that puts me on edge, but she just talked.” 

Fuyuhiko flipped over a card of his own, nine of hearts, and they both knew it was war but neither one of them wanted to see it through. “I can keep an eye on her, if you want?” He said. “I mean, hell, we’ve done worse over less.”

“No.” Peko shook her head. “That’s not necessary, really. She hasn’t done anything.”

“She fuckin freaks you out, that’s good enough for me.” Fuyuhiko set down his deck and started cracking his knuckles. Peko reached out and grabbed his hand at the second pop. 

“Don’t.” She said. He felt his heart rate skyrocket, thrumming in his chest like it was trying to burst through his ribs. She looked at him the same way she always did: eyes low-lit and locked on his face. “Let me handle this.” She said it like a demand, but he could still hear the subtle lilt of a question. 

He swallowed, willing himself to react to anything like a regular person. “Okay.” He said. “But I wanna back you up if she tries any funny business.” 

“You’ll be the first to know.” She let go of his hand and looked down at the cards; formerly in their laps, now spilled across the blankets. “Well. I think the bet’s off.” She said.

“I forfeit.” Fuyuhiko said, climbing off the bed. “You win.”

“What are you doing?” Peko asked, watching as he moved to the foot of the bed. 

“Turning over a new leaf.” He said. “I’ve decided to try being considerate.”

“You’ve been considerate.” She said.

“Really? Huh. In that case, I’ll try being an ass.” He grabbed the end of the blanket and yanked it out from under her in one smooth motion, sending cards flying everywhere. She fell onto her back with a tinny yelp of surprise, laying there in shock for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Fuyuhiko grinned at her, and she brought her hands up to cover her mouth. They were warm, and her face was warm, and he was smiling and that buzzing in her chest was loud enough to be an entire beehive. 

He unfurled the blanket and tossed it at her, and she resisted the instinct to catch it, instead letting it land over her head. She lay there swathed like a sheet ghost, still giggling. The bed dipped as Fuyuhiko climbed back onto it, swiping cards onto the floor as he moved. He pulled the blanket off her head. 

“Happy now?” Fuyuhiko was smiling, sitting close enough that she could see the dimple creasing at the corner of his mouth and the freckles dotting his face. He had thirty-seven freckles across his nose. This was somehow not included in the 100GB of crucial information about him that was uploaded into her system. A gross oversight, in her opinion. He tugged the blanket out of her grasp and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Yes.” She said, and she meant it. The realization hit hard, she shouldn’t be able to feel this way. Her whole body was rebelling against the emotion, her fans were on full blast but her face still felt warm. She knew that it was wrong, impossible even. With a malfunction this severe, she should insist that Fuyuhiko initiate the emergency deactivation procedure. And when he inevitably declined, she should do it herself. But that would mean going back to the lab, back under the gaze and the thumb of Kuzuryu higher-ups. Her stomach dropped, yet another glitch, yet another emotion she shouldn’t be able to feel, let alone process. She had been quiet for a beat too long, Fuyuhiko tilted his head, catching her gaze. He wouldn’t let her go back to the lab, he wouldn’t let anyone send her back there, not after last time. The fear in the pit of her stomach smoothed itself out. 

“I’m happy.” She whispered, as much to herself as she did to him. “I’m _happy_.” Her face split into a smile all on it’s own, no conscious decision from her. “Look at this!” She pointed to her grin. She must have been overheating, because his ears were bright red. 

He had seen her smile before, but this was different. She was grinning, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, and he couldn’t bring himself to care that he’d have a cold night. He’d suffer through an infinite amount of cold nights to get her to smile like that.

“Thank you.” She said.

“What for?” He asked. 

She looked at him, then around the room, tugged at a stray thread at the blanket’s edge. “This.” 

“Oh.” He watched as she deftly wound the thread around her finger, but didn't pull it loose. “You too.” 

“For what?” She tilted her head to the side, small smile still playing at the corner of her mouth.

“This. Everything.” 

“Of course.” Peko said, her voice full of sincerity despite a chronic lack of inflection. She leaned back against the headboard and looked at him, still biting back a grin every few seconds. His heart melted into a puddle that he was dangerously close to slipping in. It was too much, he was going to make a complete fool of himself. 

For once in his life, he managed to fight that instinct. “We should probably sleep.” He says. 

“It’s only 10:30.” Peko said. “Are you tired?”

“Yeah.” No. But if he stayed awake, he’d keep looking at her and he’d end up swooning or serenading her or professing his undying devotion. That last one was probably fine actually, she did that for him every few hours. Which _really_ hadn’t been helping his whole crisis. “Some of us go to class.” He said, poking her in the ribs. She squirmed like she was ticklish. Could robots get ticklish? He had no idea. 

“Some of us have better things to do.” She maneuvered the blanket so that she could toss half of it over him.

“Like what?” He settled onto his back, hands tucked under his head. 

“Train.” She said.

“Bullshit.”

She sighed, took her glasses off and set them on the nightstand. “There’s a stray cat behind the bleachers and I’m _this_ close to making friends with it.”

Fuyuhiko smiled. “What’s it look like?”

Peko turned towards him and started describing the mangiest cat in the fucking world, but she talked about it like something precious. He closed his eyes and listened, taking note of the buzz in the back of her throat whenever she got excited. 

She talked until he fell asleep, his head tilted slightly towards her. The blanket only partially covered him, his leg stuck out from under it. She moved slowly, so she didn’t wake him, and covered him the rest of the way. He shifted in his sleep a little, mumbled what could be a thank you or could be nothing, it was hard to tell. She powered herself down, something in her chest still humming, a simulacrum of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thewildwilds, if you're out there, the playing card scene would not exist if it weren't for your gambler/yakuza au art of Fuyuhiko with the ace of hearts. Thank you for your service.


	4. Warm, But Not Burning

A few months passed. Peko had begun to power on at 6:30am on the dot. Fuyuhiko had adjusted to the change, and like anticipating an alarm, he woke up at 6:28. 

He blinked awake, thumbed the sleep from his eyes, then immediately jolted backward. Peko had powered down with her eyes half-open. Her head was turned towards him, irises lightless, pupils focused on the middle distance. Usually, Peko staring at nothing was completely normal. When she was powered down, it was far too deathlike. It was creepy. It was uncanny valley. It was really fucking weird. 

“Jesus Christ.” He whispered. She didn’t stir, of course. He could scream bloody murder while she was powered down and she wouldn’t hear it. Which meant that asking her to close her eyes was out of the question. He took a deep breath, propped himself up on his elbow and slowly folded her eyelids closed. The sunlight was peeking through the blinds, shards of light slicing across Peko’s face. With her eyes closed, she almost looked like she could be sleeping. That is, if you didn’t notice the stillness of her chest or the power cord snaking from her forearm. 

Her braids were half-undone from laying on them all night. Strands of silver spilled across the pillow, near-glowing in the early dawn. A loose lock of hair fell across her face, curling at the corner of her mouth. Fuyuhiko’s heart rate had slowed from the initial shock of Peko’s open eyes, but it picked back up again just looking at her. She was beautiful, which would be completely fucking embarassing for him to think if it wasn’t true. Like, objectively. He reached out and tucked the hair behind her ear, smoothed it down with the pad of his thumb. Her eyelids started to flutter, and he froze in place. 

The first thing Peko processed upon powering up was the feeling of something resting against the side of her face. She opened her eyes slowly, vision capabilities still loading, and blinked until the room came into focus. Fuyuhiko was leaning partway over her, eyes wide and hair still messy from sleep. He rested on one elbow, the other hand curled around the back of her ear. Whatever had been humming in her chest practically did a backflip. 

“Good morning.” She said it carefully; it was hard to speak coherently with the glitch flip-flopping in her chest. 

“Morning.” He said, frozen in place. “Uh. You had a hair on your face.”

She swept her sleeve sluggishly across her cheek. “Better?” 

“Yeah. My bad.” He pulled his hand back. “I’m gonna—” He started to push himself off the bed. She didn’t want him to leave. She wasn’t sure why, and if she had the words she probably didn’t have the capabilities to say them. She was confused and groggy and she wanted him to stay.

“Where are you going?” She asked. She was lagging, but her strength was unchecked by the state of her software. She tried to catch him by the wrist, but fumbled the movement, and ended up pulling him toward her. His knee slid on the sheets and he crashed down with a yelp. That snapped her to attention immediately. Her hands snapped to his waist, not stopping his descent but managing to cushion his fall. His elbows hit the pillow on either side of her head, giving him just enough of a buffer that they avoided cracking their skulls together. He was directly on top of her. She looked up at him with wide eyes. He could feel her motor whirring against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, looking genuinely concerned about what must be the most embarrassing face he’s ever made in his life. 

“Yeah, fuck, I’m—” He stammered and tried to move backward, but her hands were locked in defense mode around his waist, warm enough that he could feel the heat through his shirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuckin, maul you. You’re, uh. You’re stronger than you look.”

“Thank you. You’re very aerodynamic.” She said, not moving a muscle. His heart hammered so hard it might bruise his ribcage, but the feeling was drowned out by the surge of Peko’s processor. It felt like it was about to burst through her chest and into his. He stopped mid-panic and rerouted directly for a different panic. 

“Hey, Peko, are you okay? It feels like something’s—” She let go of him immediately, one hand flying to her chest. He grabbed the other and held it tight. He could feel the electricity rippling through her fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” She said, not meeting his gaze. “Sometimes that just happens.”

“Fucking when?” He asked. “You’re like a livewire.” 

He looked at her with his brow furrowed, hand anchored to hers even though it must have felt like static shock. Every part of her body was tingling like it was about to light up. The place where her heart should be burned, a match scraping against the grain. 

“I think I just need some air.” She said. 

The full force of their position hit him all over again. “Oh, shit. God, sorry.” He scrambled backward to the end of the bed, decided the distance wasn't enough, and slid off until he stood on the floor. “I probably fucked something up.”

“It’s not your fault.” She propped herself up on her elbows. Her skin began to feel less pins-and-needles, the pressure in her chest calmed from suffocating to a slight hum. She looked at Fuyuhiko, standing at the foot of the bed with all the tension of a springtrap. She knew that look, he was on guard, expecting something to go wrong and ready to be at her side if it did. “It’s calmed down.” She said. His posture didn’t change. She held out a hand to him. He hesitated.

“What if I fuck you up again?”

“You didn’t in the first place.”

He looked at her hand, then back up at her. “Okay.” He walked around the edge of the bed until he stood at her side, then took her hand. It was warm, but not burning, and the surge of electricity had stopped. He let out a breath, visibly relaxing. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” 

Sunlight was streaming through the window now, casting the entire room in a bright glow. It was nearing the time that most students left their rooms to get breakfast. 

“You should probably leave before Kiyotaka begins his morning patrol.” Fuyuhiko said. “I _could_ beat his ass if he tried to report us, but the emotional toll, ya know?”

“Of course.” Peko chanced a look at him, his eyes still brimming with something she couldn’t place. Concern? She was unsure, but when she crossed her arms, her hands felt warm. “I’ll see you tonight.” She smiled at him, and some of the tension left his shoulders.

“See you tonight.” He replied.

Peko spent the morning under the bleachers, trying and failing to call over the stray cat. She had named it Mochi. Mochi did not like her very much. 

“How do you figure out why you glitch?” She asked. Mochi hissed at her. Peko frowned and sat down cross-legged in the dirt. Mochi kept a wide berth and a wary expression, darting through the grass and occasionally chasing down bugs. Peko watched her stalk and subsequently pounce on a beetle. Mochi bit down on it with her snaggleteeth, then carved it in two with her claws, black blood oozing across her white paws. Mochi was probably not the best advisor on interpersonal matters. 

Peko considered texting Fuyuhiko, but had no idea what she would say. He seemed nervous earlier, after everything. That look of concern was still burned into the forefront of her memory. She frowned. She didn’t like seeing him like that. She took her phone out of her pocket and stared at their messages. Most of them were inconsequential check-ins, but every once in a while there was something more; some gossip, a picture, an inside joke. Moments like that were few and far between, they were careful not to leave a paper trail. Still, things slipped through the cracks. 

She drafted a message, then deleted it, then drafted it again. What did people say when they texted their friends? She had no idea. She deleted and drafted the message again. Most people probably didn’t draft and delete a text three times. She wasn’t very good at this. She tapped her phone against her chin and looked at Mochi.

“What should I say?” She asked. Mochi ripped a blade of grass from the dirt with her teeth. Quick and to the point. Peko could do that. She typed out a message and hit send before she could hesitate. 

Peko: _Miss you._

It only took a few seconds for the typing bubble to pop up.

_Boss is typing..._

She locked her phone as though he could see her through the screen. The honorific felt outdated. She hadn’t called him that in months. He didn’t like it. Her opinions on the matter were irrelevant. She clicked on his profile and deleted the letters, one tap at a time, until she was left with a blank field. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. She got the sense that she was about to do something terribly wrong. 

Mochi peered through the grass at her with wide, yellow eyes. “You won’t tell anyone, right?” Peko asked. Mochi blinked and began chewing on her paw. Peko took that as a sign of good faith. Slowly, deliberately, she typed out Fuyuhiko. The decision of choosing an emoji to accompany the name was far too agonizing to consider, so she decided to leave that for later. Her thumb hovered over the save button. She jabbed it and dropped her phone into her lap like a grenade. Mochi paused her chewing to glare at Peko.

“Sorry.” Peko picked her phone up and opened her messages. One notification.

Fuyuhiko: _Miss you too_

She smiled and pressed her phone against her chest like it was a love letter, electricity racing through her wires in an imitation adrenaline rush. She held her phone out to Mochi so the cat could see the name change.

“Look!” She said. Mochi hissed at her. Peko pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “Well, it’s a big deal to me.”

Natsumi  
  
Peko texted me ‘miss you’ out of nowhere what does that MEAN?  
  
it means she misses you dumbass  
  
WHAT DO I SAY?  
  
do you miss her?  
  
Fucking obviously  
  
how abt u tell her instead of me  
  
But then she'll know  
  
stop being a bitch  
  
dont leave her on read  
  
Ok fine  
  
I did it  
  
how u holding up  
  
About to throw my phone out the window text you later  
  


When the lunch bell rang, Peko headed to the cafeteria. The rest of the girls were already sitting around the table, engrossed in what was less a conversation and more a fight. 

“Hello.” Peko increased her volume to just loud enough to be heard over the racket, and set her sword down on the table. 

“Hi Peko!” Ibuki practically sang when she sat down. 

“I need advice.” Peko said. That got everyone’s attention. Peko didn’t usually ask for advice. Peko didn’t usually ask for anything at all. 

“Is something wrong?” Mahiru asked.

“I don’t know.” Peko had spent the morning figuring out exactly how to voice her problem in a way that wouldn’t raise suspicions. She spoke carefully. “What does it mean when you look at someone and get really warm?”

Natsumi froze, her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. 

“Like a fever?” Mikan asked, winding a lock of hair around her finger.

That wasn’t it, Peko couldn’t get sick. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Could you tell me all your symptoms? If that’s not too much trouble?” Mikan asked. 

“Okay.” Peko said. “Whenever I’m around him, I say things without thinking, and sometimes my—” She stopped, searched for the equivalent word. “My heart hurts.” 

Natsumi’s chopsticks hit the table. 

“Oh my god! Peko’s in love!” Ibuki leaned forward until hers and Peko’s noses were almost touching. “Who is it? Is it someone Ibuki knows?” 

“Forget about Ibuki, is it someone that _I_ know?” Natsumi asked. 

“That’s not important.” Peko said. That was all Natsumi needed, her eyes lit up like a forest fire. 

“Everybody shut up!” She grabbed Peko’s hand. “Come with me.” 

Peko didn’t really have a choice, she barely had enough time to grab her sword before Natsumi dragged her out of the cafeteria and into the girl’s bathroom. 

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me about this immediately.” Natsumi kicked open all the stall doors. When the last one didn’t open, she started banging on it. “Open up!”

“I’m peeing!” Someone said from inside the stall.

“Then use the boys room, this is top secret information. If you hear it I _will_ have to kill you.” 

“Fine! Jesus!” 

Natsumi practically chased the girl out before positioning herself so that she was blocking the exit, arms crossed. She looked at Peko with the sort of tense expression she usually reserved for interrogations. “Is it Hiko?” 

Peko didn’t see the point in lying. “Yes.” 

Natsumi dropped her unflappable expression immediately, face nearly splitting with a grin as she squealed and launched herself at Peko. She wrapped Peko into a hug so tight that it felt like something might snap. “I knew it!” Natsumi said. “I knew it! I knew it!” 

“Knew what?” Peko asked, her hands hovering over Natsumi’s shoulders as she tried to decide whether to return the hug. Natsumi made the decision for her by pulling away and grabbing her by the hands. 

“That you like him!” Natsumi shook Peko’s hands around. 

Peko had no idea what Natsumi was so excited about. “Of course I like him. We’re friends now.” 

Natsumi groaned. “Do you have to be so literal?”

“Yes.”

“You like, _like_ him.” Peko just blinked at her. Natsumi sighed. “Alright, let’s go over the facts.” Natsumi dropped Peko’s hands and resumed her post at the door. “What happens when you look at my idiot brother? And cut the bullshit, tell me about your hardware.”

Peko sat on the sink, layed her sword across her lap. “It’s not every time.”

Natsumi just stared at her. 

“Fine. I overheat. I malfunction. It takes a significant toll on my processor. Sometimes when we touch, something in my chest twinges.” 

“Okay.” Natsumi tugged at her hair in concentration. “Does that happen with anyone else? Just him?”

“Just him.” Peko swung her legs. 

“Alright.” Natsumi preemptively scrunched up her nose at what was about to come out of her mouth. “How does he make you feel?”

Peko looked down at her sword, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Happy.”

“There’s the kicker. You know how most people feel when they look at Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu?” Someone tried to open the bathroom door, but they only managed a few inches before Natsumi slammed it shut. “Annoyed.” 

Peko crossed her arms. “If they just got to know him—”

“Whatever. My point is.” Natsumi crossed the room to stand right in front of Peko. “You like him. He makes you happy. You’ve somehow managed to get past the major roadblock that is his personality. Do you know what this means?”

“No. That’s why I asked you.”

Natsumi grabbed Peko by the shoulders and shook her. “For the love of fuck! You have a crush on him!” 

Everything hit Peko at once. The glitches, the malfunctions, the newfound happiness. A crush. It was the simplest, most impossible answer. For all intents and purposes, she shouldn’t be able to develop feelings like that. She shouldn’t be able to develop feelings, full stop. And yet the aftershocks of euphoria were still hitting her in the form of sudden smiles. 

“Hello? Earth to Peko? Did I finally break you?” Natsumi waved a hand in front of her face. Peko swatted it away. Oh, god. Natsumi was there. Peko snapped out of whatever internal monologue she wasn’t ready to have and laser focused her eyes on Natsumi’s. She slid off the sink, clutching her sword in her hands. 

“You _cannot_ tell him.” Peko said. “I mean it.” 

“Why not?”

“Because,” Peko lowered her volume. “I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, I know, my parents will flay you both alive. Listen, I won’t tell them, my lips are sealed.” Natsumi pantomimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key. 

Peko really hadn’t needed that reminder. She was hit with the memory of being dismantled by the researchers, her hands so mangled that their function was unrecognizable. All that for a mistake. She shuddered. “That’s not what I meant.” She closed her eyes. “I mean, I can’t do that. I’m not programmed to.” She was met with silence. She cracked one eye open. Natsumi was looking at her like she was broken. “I’m incapable.” Peko said. The words sound hollow coming out of her voice box. 

“Oh.” Natsumi stood there, still looking at Peko as though there were something wrong with her.

“What?” Peko asked. It was a rare thing to see Natsumi Kuzuryu speechless. Immediately, Natsumi’s eyes brightened, she snapped her fingers. Evidently, it didn’t last long.

“But you’re not supposed to be happy either, are you?”

“No.” Peko said. “Why do you ask?” 

“Because.” Natsumi dragged out the second syllable. “If you can feel happy, and you shouldn’t be able to, maybe there’s a chance for some other feelings too?”

“I don’t follow.” Peko blinked at her.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to.” Natsumi shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. Let’s go back to your initial question.” She began pacing the room, hands laced behind her back like she was giving a presentation. “You alleged that he makes you glitch, correct?”

“Correct.” Peko shifted her stance, hung her sword from her shoulder, stood at attention.

“He makes you glitch, and he makes you happy. Two things that you should not be able to do or feel. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Peko nodded. Natsumi turned on her heel to face her, a smile snaking across her face.

“Well, then it seems like some further investigation is in order. Maybe there’s other things you can do that you shouldn’t be able to.”

That seemed reasonable, if vague. “How do I do that?” Peko asked. 

“I don’t know.” Natsumi shrugged. “Hold his hand or something.”

“We already do that.”

“Of course you do.” Natsumi sighed. “I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you. See what makes you glitch. You’ve done recon; find a clue, follow the trail.” Natsumi leaned in. “And most importantly, _report back_.”

See what makes her glitch. That was direct. That was doable. Finally. Peko nodded. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” Natsumi clapped her hands together. “Now for the fun part.” In one smooth motion, she wrenched the sword out of Peko’s grasp and turned it on her. She looked Peko dead in the eyes, her gaze unwavering. “If you break his heart, I will fucking decimate you. They will never find even a piece of your body. You got me?”

Peko was not scared of Natsumi Kuzuryu. She nodded anyway.

“Good!” Natsumi smiled and handed the sword back. “God, I missed threatening people. It’s been like, five whole minutes.” She patted Peko on the shoulder. “Wanna go not-eat with me?”

Fuyuhiko planned to spend his lunch hour reeling from the knowledge that Peko missed him. Instead, he spent it with Kazuichi Soda. He didn’t do it on purpose. 

He was sitting alone at his table, staring at his messages, when Soda flopped down in the seat across from him and started chugging a small carton of strawberry milk like it was the first liquid he’d seen in days.

“Can I fucking help you?” Fuyuhiko asked, turning his screen off.

“Nah, dude.” Soda finished the milk and looked at it sadly, crushing the carton wistfully in his fist. 

“Don’t you have literally anywhere else to be?” Fuyuhiko asked.

Soda shook his head. “I was sitting with Gundham and Sonia, but I accidentally knocked over his water onto the Devas, so I got exiled.” He pouted, his pointed teeth jutting out over his lip like a dog. Fuyuhiko had no idea what the Devas were, and decided he didn't want to find out. “Can I sit with you?” Soda asked. Despite everything about his appearance, Soda gave Fuyuhiko a convincingly pathetic pair of puppy-dog eyes.

“Whatever.” Fuyuhiko went back to his food.

“Yes!” Soda pumped his fist, and started separating all the food on his tray into little squares. They sat in silence for a few blissful minutes, before Soda decided to open his mouth again. “So, do you know anything about love?”

Fuyuhiko slammed his chopsticks on the table. “Leave.” He pointed Soda toward the rest of the cafeteria, where, if there was a God, he could find somewhere else to sit. 

“I’m serious!” Soda pouted again. “I’m having boy trouble. And girl trouble.”

Fuyuhiko had no idea how to interpret that. “Do you need a tampon?”

“Nah, I’ve got some.” He used his chopsticks to pack some rice into a cube and ate it, mouth open as he chewed. Fuyuhiko watched it like a car crash. Soda talked through the mouthful. “So, you don’t know anything about love? That’s kinda sad.”

“I never said that!” 

Fuyuhiko’s eyes slid right past Soda as he caught a streak of silver in the distance. Peko walked into the cafeteria, sword on her back, bottle of water that she definitely wasn’t going to drink in her hand. She looked around the room, eyes landing on him for a split second in her search for Natsumi. She smiled at him, and despite how much he wanted to throttle Soda, he smiled back. She seemed fine, thank god. Whatever that glitch was seemed to have blown over. And she missed him. Fucking crazy.

“Pekoyama, huh?” Soda asked. That snapped Fuyuhiko out of it immediately.

“What the hell do you want with Pekoyama?” Fuyuhiko asked. Soda’s eyes widened.

“Nothing! I just saw you looking at her and, well—” A wave of panic raced up Fuyuhiko’s spine. If this idiot could tell how far gone he was, then anyone could know. He reached across the table and grabbed Soda by the collar of his stupid jumpsuit, yanking him forward. Soda let out a small squeak as his chest slammed against the edge of the table. 

“Soda. Shut the fuck up. Listen to me.”

“Okay?” Soda choked out.

“Whatever I do or do not feel about Pekoyama is not your business. It’s not anyone else’s business either. Hell, it’s not even _my_ business. So if you want to stay attached to your drilling hand, keep your pointy fucking mouth shut. Am I clear?”

“They’re both my drilling hand. I’m ambidextrous.” 

“Whatever, love who you love. I’ll still break your fucking arm.” Fuyuhiko said. 

“The Ultimate Yakuza, I take it?” A girl’s voice said. Fuyuhiko looked up, his grip on Soda slipping immediately. Looking down on him was none other than Junko Enoshima. “Impressive threat. I almost wish I had been a few seconds too late. It would have been pretty entertaining to watch you cleave Kazuichi’s arm off.” 

Enoshima sat down next to Fuyuhiko, swinging her legs over the bench and crossing them at the ankle. She put her chin in her hand and looked at Soda through impressively long false lashes. “But when I saw you looking so helpless, I couldn’t help myself. I just _had_ to step in.”

Soda choked on a cube of rice. It took him a few minutes to regain his composure and come up with something witty to say in response. After what looked like mental agony, he finally settled on “Thanks?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask for much in return.” Enoshima said, flicking one of her ponytails over her shoulder. “How about you use those distinctly functional arms of yours to get me a drink?” It wasn’t a question. Soda took the opportunity to make a graceless exit, and beelined for the farthest vending machine. Enoshima turned to Fuyuhiko, twirled a lock of hair around her slender fingers. “You’re welcome.” She said. 

Maybe it was that conversation he and Peko had, maybe it was just a gut feeling from years of dealing with unsavory individuals, maybe he somehow found it in his heart to feel bad for Kazuichi Soda. No matter the reason, something about Enoshima made his stomach turn. “Piss off.” He turned back to his lunch. 

She scoffed. “Not even an ounce of gratitude for getting rid of your tablemate?” 

“I’m busy.” He said. “So if you don’t mind, I’d like to enjoy my food in peace.”

“That’s fine.” She said, staring at him with cold, cold eyes. “I got what I needed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *transes Soda's gender*
> 
> Peko: Everytime we touch, something in my chest twinges.  
> Natsumi: And everytime you kiss you swear you could fly?


	5. Red-Handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I live to torment Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

When Peko knocked on Fuyuhiko’s door that night, he opened it immediately.

“Hey.” He dragged his hand over his hair.

“Hello.” Peko smiled without even meaning to. 

“Come on in.” He held the door open for her. He was still in his school uniform, but just barely. He had unbuttoned his vest, and he tugged at his already loose tie. “Remember Enoshima?”

If Peko had blood, it would have turned to ice. “Unfortunately.” She said.

“Well, I met her today.”

“What happened?” 

“Not much. But you’re right, there’s something off about her.” He leaned against his desk. “She looked at Kazuichi Soda like she was going to fuckin eat him.”

“She did the same to Mikan Tsumiki.” Peko frowned. “I think they’re dating now.”

“Yikes.” Fuyuhiko cringed. “Is Tsumiki the one that apologizes when people breathe in her direction?”

“The very same.”

“Enoshima will rip that girl to shreds.”

“Undoubtedly.” Peko paused and ran through her mental roster of their classmates. “Isn’t Kazuichi Soda scared of his own cars?”

“Pretty much.” Fuyuhiko shrugged. “But if she’s going after pussies, I think we’re safe.” 

“It seems that way.” 

Fuyuhiko yanked at his tie again. “Well, it’s not our problem then.” 

Peko watched him shake his hands out as he walked, cracking his knuckles. “Are you alright?” She asked. “Did she say something to you?”

Fuyuhiko stopped in his stride, turned around to face Peko. He took a deep breath. “Kinda. She said she got what she needed.”

Peko reached up and tugged at the collar of her own shirt. “Did she give any indication as to what that may be?”

Fuyuhiko shook his head. “No, and that’s what’s bothering me. I’ve got fucking nothing to go on.”

Peko wracked her brain. “Maybe it was Soda.”

Fuyuhiko snorted. “No human alive has ever needed Kazuichi Soda for anything.”

“Any other ideas?” Peko asked.

He leaned back against the desk, stared down at his feet. Junko hadn’t seemed to give a shit about Soda past getting him out of her way. Fuyuhiko had one nagging fear worming through the back of his brain. She could have heard them talking about Peko. Not only would that mean Enoshima knew that they knew each other, she would know how he felt about her. Something in his gut told him that that would be very, very bad. He pictured her leering at Peko with the same predatory grin she gave Soda. He should kneecap her, just to be safe. It would be easy. 

And completely unnecessary. He had no proof she even heard him talking about Peko, let alone that she cared. Maybe she did just want Soda, for some ungodly reason. That was it. For the sake of his sanity, that had to be it. 

He sighed, looked back up at Peko. She stood at attention a few feet from him, hands clasped behind her back like she was being given an official briefing. Oh god, he thought they had gotten past that. 

“Let’s stop talking about Enoshima.” He said. “There’s nothing we can do about her anyway.”

Peko dropped her hands to her sides. He let out a sigh of relief. “Alright.” She said. He looked nervous. Peko watched as he hooked his finger around his tie again, she grabbed his hand before he could yank.

“You’re going to strangle yourself.” She said, dropping his hand and reaching for his tie. She unknotted it and slid the soft material through his collar in one smooth motion. She felt that now too-familiar thrum in her chest. “Better?” 

After months of sharing a bed, he thought that he would have gotten used to this kind of proximity, but no. It took a few seconds for him to process what the fuck she said, because they were standing very close and he was painfully aware of how he could see each individual eyelash, each bulb behind her iris. He could hear her processor whirring, picking up speed.

“Yep.” He said, his voice noticeably higher than usual. “I’m good. But I think you’re glitching again.”

Peko’s chest was still humming. She recalled what Natsumi had told her earlier. Find a clue, follow the trail. Here was her opportunity. Proximity seemed to be a factor, every time they stood near each other, she glitched. 

“You okay?” His voice brought her back to reality. “Did I do something?”

“Can I test something?” She asked, by way of an answer. “I have a theory.”

He hesitated. “Will it hurt you?” He asked. 

She tore her eyes away from the floor to meet his gaze. “No.” 

He swallowed, his eyes not leaving hers. “Okay.” 

She let the tie fall to the floor, stepped toward him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Is this okay?” She asked. 

He had no idea what to do with his hands. It seemed weird to put them back on the desk. It seemed even weirder to just let them hang there, doing nothing. He set them on her waist, barely making contact, a featherlight touch. Either her fans picked up speed or blood rushed to his ears. Maybe both. He nodded.

She pulled him towards her, a fraction of an inch. It was enough. Her chest buzzed immediately. She tilted his chin up with her free hand. His eyes, normally green, looked golden in the light of her eye beams. His eyelashes were long and dark, not at all fitting for a mobster and therefore perfectly fitting for him. She inched toward him. Her chest seized. Another glitch. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He leaned into her until they were nearly chest-to-chest. She pressed her forehead against his, his breath ghosted against her lips. 

The hum of her processor buzzed against his chest. His gaze dropped to her lips and then snapped back up to her eyes because he had to be misreading this situation. Or dreaming. Or he was just out of his fucking mind. But no, her nose bumped against his and she tilted her head, closed her eyes. Peko was going to kiss him. Thank god she had an arm around his waist or else he’d hit the floor. This was a terrible idea. But it was her idea and he wanted to do it so badly his heart ached. His eyes fluttered shut, he leaned forward, and-

BANG! A loud noise cut through the silence. The two of them jumped back like they’d been burned. The back of Fuyuhiko’s legs rammed against the desk. Peko reached for her sword. There was another round of earsplitting knocking on the door. 

“Fuyuhiko?” Natsumi yelled from outside. 

Fuyuhiko rubbed his shin. “I swear to fucking GOD Natsumi, it better be an emergency!”

“It might be.” She said. He stopped mid-motion with his hand still clamped on his shin. “I can’t find Peko. She’s not in her room.” 

Fuyuhiko shot a panicked glance at Peko, who was distinctly in _his_ room. “She’s fine, go to bed.”

“Are you really not worried about your creepy girlfriend? What the fuck, I thought you’d start kicking doors off their hinges.” Natsumi punctuated the word ‘girlfriend’ with another blow to the door. Peko’s face immediately heated up. 

“Shut up!” Fuyuhiko said through his teeth. 

There was a moment of silence. “Oh my _god_ is she in there? Hiko, you WHORE!” Natsumi resumed banging on the door. 

“She’s not in here! And can you fucking stop that? Someone’s gonna hear you.”

“How about you let me in then?” Natsumi asked, all sickly-sweet singsong. 

“How about you make like a tree and fuck off?”

“Oh, she’s _definitely_ in there.” He could hear the grin in her voice. “Hi Peko!”

“Hello.” Peko said.

“ _Peko!_ ” Fuyuhiko hissed.

Peko shrugged. “What? She said hi.” 

“What are you doing in there?” If Peko picked up on Natsumi’s goading tone, she didn’t show it. 

“We’re sleeping together.” Peko said. There was a brief moment of silence, the calm before the storm, as both Kuzuryus attempted to process what she just said. 

“ _PEKO!_ ” Fuyuhiko’s voice hit a note of hysteria.

“She asked.” Peko gestured to the door. 

“You can _not_ be serious.” Natsumi’s tone was that of someone who just heard a particularly juicy, yet horrifying bit of gossip. 

“I am.” Peko nodded. 

“ _EW!_ Oh my GOD! Seriously, I thought you two might get your shit together but jesus that was _fast_ _—_ ”

“Natsumi! Shut UP!” Fuyuhiko tore the door open and grabbed Natsumi by the arm, dragging her into the room. It didn’t slow her tirade for even a second. 

“Hell no, I cannot believe you two—” She lowered her voice from a shout to what passed for normal volume. “— _had sex_.”

Peko’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

Natsumi whirled around to face her. “Don’t be fuckin coy with me, Pekoyama. You didn’t think to mention this earlier? I cannot _believe_ you asked me for advice and then immediately started — ” Again, she lowered her voice. “ — _boning_ my _brother_.”

Fuyuhiko put his head in his hands. “I’m in hell. I want to die.” 

“I am not boning your brother.” Peko said. Fuyuhiko made a noise that sounded like his death wish was coming true. Peko pointed at him. “He’s waiting until marriage.”

“Oh my god.” Natsumi took a step back. “Did you two get MARRIED?”

“NO!” Peko and Fuyuhiko shouted in unison.

“Thank god.” Natsumi turned to Fuyuhiko. “Wait, you broke your weird vow of chastity just like that? And _you_ —” She turned to Peko. “Did you sort through your software that fast? Are you using him? I wasn’t fucking around, I’ll kill—”

“I’m _not_ doing that!” Peko put so much strain on her words they almost sounded like a hiss. 

“We’re not having sex!” Fuyuhiko said.

“Peko already admitted it!”

“When?” Peko crossed her arms. 

“You said you were sleeping together!” Natsumi was back at a yell. 

Peko nodded. “That part’s true.”

“What the FUCK is the difference?” Natsumi pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“She meant it literally.” Fuyuhiko said, voice muffled through his hands. Natsumi stopped mid-expletive. She closed her mouth, looked from Peko to Fuyuhiko, who was one second away from curling up in the fetal position, and back to Peko again.

“We’ve been sharing a bed.” Peko gestured toward it as she explained. 

Natsumi exhaled, a full-body sigh. She pressed a hand to her chest as though she was about to pass out. “Oh, thank fuck. I really thought I was going to have to give you the talk.” 

“What talk?” Peko asked. 

Fuyuhiko began to stand back up.

“The sex talk.” Natsumi said. Fuyuhiko hit the floor like a sack of bricks. 

“I’ve been given the sex talk.” Peko said. Both Kuzuryus stared at her.

“Who the fuck gave you the sex talk?” Natsumi asked.

“Mikan and Ibuki.”

Natsumi tapped a finger against her chin. “Process about half of what each of them said and that’s probably fine.”

“Can you two please stop talking about sex in front of me? Please.” Fuyuhiko said from the floor. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Natsumi shrugged. “I’m leaving.” She stepped over Fuyuhiko’s prone form on the way out. “Night, Peko.”

“Goodnight.” Peko waved. 

“Have fun sleeping together!” Natsumi said, much louder than necessary. She smirked at the state of the room and let the door slam behind her. 

Peko turned to Fuyuhiko, who was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and head in his hands. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids and took a few seconds to recover from whatever the _fuck_ that was. Hearing Natsumi talk about sex was the worst thing that ever happened to him, hearing Peko talk about sex was the worst thing that ever happened to him in the polar opposite direction. He could never get into a bed with Peko again. He was going to sleep on the floor forever. He was going to sleep on the floor, under the bed, and die there. 

“Those were the worst two minutes of my fucking life.” He said, through his hands. “And that’s saying something.”

“Are you alright?” Peko asked. 

Oh god, now he had to pretend he didn’t just approach death. He took a deep breath and stood up. “Yep, I’m good. I’m fine.” He leaned back against the desk in a show of faux-nonchalance. “I’m normal.” 

“That’s debatable.” Peko said, stifling a smile.

He raked his hand through his hair. “Do you have to kick a guy when he’s down?” 

“You make it too easy.”

“You’re a motherfucker.” There was a remarkable lack of bite behind the word. “Can we just pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Of course.” 

“Okay. Cool. I’m fine. I’m good.” Fuyuhiko took a deep breath, relying on years of Yakuza-mandated emotional suppression to kick in. It worked. Natsumi was never there, that conversation never happened. Everything was fine. They could go back to how things were when she hadn’t showed up and scrambled his brain. He reached up to undo his tie, realized Peko had _removed it_ , and-- Oh _FUCK_ Peko had almost kissed him. 

The memory hit him like a punch to the gut. Peko, tilting his chin up, her face inches from his. Like something out of a romance manga that he definitely _didn’t_ read and _didn’t_ have stashed under his bed where he _would_ die later. 

And Natsumi just had to interrupt. He was going to kill her. Except he wasn’t, because she probably saved him from making the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe the best mistake of his life. 

He shook his head like the motion would clear the thoughts away. He had to be out of his fucking mind. Peko wasn’t trying to kiss him, because why the fuck would she do that? She was testing a theory, whatever the hell that meant. Just trying to figure out what exactly he did to fuck her up so bad. Still, her face had been really close to his face. Maybe she didn’t get the memo about kissing. Maybe she was just being Peko, operating with no sense of what most people would consider far too intimate. Only one way to find out.

He shook his head one last time before opening his mouth, one last definitive motion to clear away the memory of their near-maybe-not-kiss. “Hey, Peko?”

“Yes?” 

“What were you trying to test? Before—” Fuyuhiko grimaced. “You know?” He gestured to the door.

Peko felt her fans pick up speed. She ran through millions of possible ways to phrase what she was trying to say. “I was testing the limitations of my software.” 

“Oh.” He looked confused. She couldn’t blame him, she was being purposely vague for a number of reasons. Reason #1 should be that she was incapable of having feelings, but that took a backseat to the second reason: the cold terror she felt at the realization that she had not only developed feelings, but might have developed them, in some capacity, for him. He scratched the back of his neck. “Did it work?”

“Yes.” It was the truth. Despite the interruption, her experiment yielded considerable results. Proximity was a factor, being close to him sent electricity coursing through her without fail. Whenever he looked at her, she malfunctioned. Natsumi had called her his girlfriend and heat formed behind her face. She was seconds away from kissing him, and even though they didn’t, it felt like she was going to melt. 

Something was very, very wrong with her. 

“I’m sorry.” She said. “I should go.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I’m malfunctioning, and I overstepped.” She grabbed her sword. “It won’t happen again.”

“Peko, wait-” Fuyuhiko reached out to grab her wrist and stopped just short of making contact. 

“I shouldn’t be around you when I’m like this.” She said. “I need to go.”

“Are you sure?” He asked.

She wasn’t. She looked down at the floor, dodged his gaze and any chance that he might convince her to stay. 

“Goodbye.” 

She left the room, walked down the hallway and past the security desk without even bothering to conceal herself. If they tried to stop her, she didn’t notice. She headed straight for the courtyard, turned her eyebeams off and stood in the darkness, let the cool night air wash over her until any warmth was neutralized. 

She had almost kissed him. That had gone much, much too far. She hadn’t meant for it to. She had gotten the data she needed almost immediately, putting his hands on her waist had yielded a glitch right off the bat. There had been no need for her to get closer. There had definitely been no need for her to kiss him. But still, she nearly did it. She didn’t even know why. They had just been standing so close and she cared about him so much and he was beautiful and for some reason these things made her want to kiss him. It was confusing. It was infuriating. She had no idea what to do. 

She couldn’t have a crush on him. She couldn’t do that. Even if it was possible, which it wasn’t, it would be the end of them. They would be doomed. She would slip up, do something _stupid_ , and jeopardize every moment they’d ever shared together. She would be found out, caught red-handed, and they would break her. She would be a liability, she would be scrapped, and she would never see him again. 

She stood in the courtyard, frozen in panic, for an hour. Finally, she turned towards the boys dorms. She couldn’t go back there, not until she knew what was wrong with her. She would have to spend the night in her own room. 

She headed to her dorm, sluggish, battery nearing the red. When she opened the door, she leaned her sword against the wall and made no motion to catch it when it tipped over. Her charging cord was in Fuyuhiko’s room. 

Her fans whirred in frustration, which just drained her battery even faster. She wasn’t used to expressing anger, but she definitely knew a few people that were. She decided to try it. 

“ _Fuck!_ ”


	6. Battery in the Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Peko does not physically listen to Mitski's First Love / Late Spring on a loop while laying facedown in her bedroom during this chapter, she may as well have. Anyway Fuyuhiko would genuinely get choked up if he heard Check Yes Juliet. Welcome to Sad Bitch Simulator, Population: Them.

Natsumi  
  
I need your help.  
  
shit did i break him  
  
I don’t know.  
  
???  
  
My charging cord is in his room.  
  
okay and  
  
Could you please get it for me.  
  
why cant you just do it yourself  
  
Please.  
  
fine whatever but im making you explain later  
  


To say that Fuyuhiko was having a crisis would be an understatement. He sat on the floor, back against the bed, head in his hands. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad. Peko had walked out, and it looked like she wasn’t coming back. Fucking figured. It was a miracle it had taken this long, really. He pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes until he saw shapes begin to swirl, red as her eyebeams. Even when she was gone he felt her eyes on him. 

There was a knock on the door. He stood up so fast he got dizzy, but that didn’t stop him from flinging the door open. His shoulders drooped. 

“What the hell did you do?” Natsumi asked him, arms crossed. 

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Peko needs her charger.” Natsumi shoved her way past Fuyuhiko and entered the room. “Peko texted _me_ to get it for her. So I’ll ask you again.” She left ample pause for emphasis between each of her next words. “What. The. _Hell_. Did. You. Do?”

Fuyuhiko crossed his arms. “I don’t know.” 

“Of course you don’t, that’s why I’m here.” Natsumi sat down at the desk, laced her fingers together. “Walk me through it.” 

If he told Natsumi what happened, she’d never let him live it down. She would torment him for the rest of her life, and then some. But she might know how to fix it. He sighed. “I’d tell you not to give me shit but I know you’re going to anyway.”

“Wow, you’re smart.” Natsumi said, in a tone that heavily implied he was anything but.

“Shut up.” He dragged a hand over his face. This was stupid. Whatever. “So, she showed up and we talked for a second. And-” Natsumi’s eyes were boring holes into his face. “Stop looking at me.”

“No.”

“Fuck you.” He said. “Anyway she almost kissed me.”

Natsumi’s eyebrows shot up. “She _what?”_

“Almost kissed me.” Fuyuhiko said it like he was admitting to doing something wrong. “She said she had to ‘test a theory’ or whatever the fuck and got like, a centimeter away from kissing me.”

Natsumi stood up and began pacing the room. “Peko almost kissed you? Peko did? Your bodyguard, Peko Pekoyama?”

“No, the other one.” Fuyuhiko said, tone deadpan enough to put Peko to shame. "Yes! That one!"

“Why?”

“Hell if I know!”

Natsumi rolled her eyes. “I meant, why _didn’t_ she?”

“I don’t know, Natsumi. Could it maybe have something to do with the fucked up, Kuzuryu-enforced tragicomedy that is our lives?” He shot her a glare. “Anyway, you showed up. And then you left, then she said that she was malfunctioning and she left.”

Natsumi tilted her head to one side. “Do you think she needs to go to the lab?”

“Absolutely not.” He said. “They’re fucked up, I’m not making her go back.” 

“Fine.” Natsumi flicked her hair over her shoulder. “There’s only one more explanation."

“What’s that?”

“She saw how weird you look up close and got scared.”

Fuyuhiko glared at her. “Thanks for that.” 

“No problem.” She said. “But seriously, I’ll talk to her.”

“You will _not_.”

Natsumi held her hands up. “I won’t say you told me to! Besides, I gotta bring her charger over there anyway.”

Fuyuhiko sighed. “Just don’t freak her out.”

“No promises.” Natsumi smiled. He gave her his most withering glare. She didn’t flinch, just held out her hand. “Charger please?”

He unplugged it and handed it over. “Tell her I’m sorry.” 

“Tell her yourself.” And with that, Natsumi left.

Peko sat in her empty room, battery in the red. She made a point to try to conserve energy, but, against her will, she kept replaying the incident in her head. Then she would glitch. With every malfunction, her battery drained even faster. It was exhausting. Natsumi knocked just in time.

“It’s unlocked.” Peko said, but she didn’t have to, Natsumi was already trying the door.

“Great security measure.” Natsumi nudged it closed with her foot.

“I’m not in the mood.” Peko glared at her. “Do you have my charger?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Natsumi rolled her eyes, but crossed the room and plugged the charger into the wall anyway. She held the other end out to Peko.

“Thank you.” Peko said, and plugged it into her arm. Her energy began to grow, and her irritability began to fade. Marginally. Natsumi sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and gave Peko the courtesy of exactly two Gregorian minutes of silence before the interrogation started. 

“What the fuck happened?” She asked. 

“I don’t know.” Peko groaned, voice box buzzing. 

“You don’t know, Hiko doesn’t know. At this point I probably know better than both of you combined.” Natsumi tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But like, what else is new?” Peko just stared at her, eyebeams still not lit. “Jeez, tough crowd.”

“What do you want?” Peko asked. 

“To know what the fuck happened. You wanna report back?” It wasn’t a question.

Peko made a sound that was an approximation of a human sigh. “Fine. We were talking, he kept pulling on his tie, so I took it off—”

“Gross.” Natsumi said. 

“And I malfunctioned.”

“Gross.”

“So I asked him if I could test a theory.”

“Gross.”

“I know. So I stood near him, and I malfunctioned. And I got closer, and I malfunctioned. And then—” Peko bit her lip. “I almost kissed him, but you knocked on the door.”

“My bad.” Natsumi shrugged. 

“No. I shouldn’t have been considering it in the first place.” She tried to cross her arms, but halted her motion at the insistent pull of her charger tethering her to the wall. Just another short leash reigning her in. “It was stupid.”

“Why did you do it?” Natsumi asked. 

Peko bit her lip. “That’s not important”

“Fuck off with your stoic bullshit. I’m your friend.” Coming from Natsumi, the word sounded like a threat. “So tell me, why’d you do it?”

Peko turned her head to the side, facing away from her. Eye contact had never bothered her before, but if she looked Natsumi in the face right now she wouldn't be able to formulate the words. “I… wanted to.” 

There was a long pause. 

“That’s it? That’s your terrible, fucked up reason?” 

“You don’t get it.” Peko’s voice was even more monotone than usual. “Something’s wrong with me. I’m broken.” 

Natsumi sighed. She set a hand on Peko’s knee and patted it once. Twice. “You’re not broken. You just have a crush.”

Peko snapped her head back to glare at Natsumi. “Stop saying that.”

“I’ll stop saying it when it stops being true.” She shrugged.

Peko let her head fall back on the pillow, stared up at the ceiling. The cracks were in different places than they were in Fuyuhiko’s room. Peko traced the unfamiliar ceiling with her eyebeams, willed herself to find some small similarity, some sense of comfort. “I shouldn’t want him.” She whispered. “I shouldn’t want anything.”

Natsumi didn’t have an answer for that. Peko didn’t expect her to. She sat at the foot of the bed in silence, watching the light return to Peko’s eyes. 

Natsumi  
  
shes fine  
  
its not ur fault  
  
Could've fooled me  
  
shut up  
  
shes gonna stay here tonight. low battery  
  
K  
  


Peko woke up at approximately 6:30am. Natsumi woke up five seconds later, against her will, due to Peko shaking her shoulder.

“Fucking, get off me! Jesus! What time is it?”

“It’s 6:30am.” Peko said. 

Natsumi groaned and put a pillow over her head. “This is the last time we have a sleepover, got it?”

“Understood.” Peko nodded. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.”

“If that was sarcasm, good job. If it wasn’t, shut up.” Natsumi threw the pillow onto the floor and sat up, rubbed her eye. She looked at her hand, a chunk of yesterday’s mascara smudged across her thumb. Gross. “What do you want?”

“It’s 6:30am.” Peko said again.

If there was some special meaning there, Natsumi wasn’t getting it. “Okay?” She said. 

“It’s almost time for class.”

Again, that meant nothing to her. “Okay?” 

“I woke you up so you wouldn’t be late.”

Natsumi sighed. “You really need to remember that I’m the cool sibling. I have better things to do than go to class.” 

“Oh.” Peko sat back on her heels. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Time to greet the fucking day.” Natsumi stood up. “You want coffee?”

“I can’t drink.”

Oof. “Right.” 

It was way too early for Natsumi to think about the events of the night before. But here she was, thinking about them. Peko was clearly having a meltdown. It was significantly less of a meltdown than Fuyuhiko could have. His freakouts usually ended with a hole in the wall; the main source of anticipation being whether it would come from bullet or fist. 

She could handle Peko. Peko just needed to have information presented in front of her in a way that made it easy for her to draw conclusions. Fuyuhiko needed therapy. Natsumi could do one of those things, and the polar opposite of the other. Damage Control: Peko Edition, was officially underway.

“What do you usually do in the morning? I know you don’t go to class.”

Peko looked at her, eyes vacant. “I usually sit under the bleachers.”

Oh, god. She better not be selling cigarettes or plotting to blow up the school. Or whatever the fuck losers do when they sit under the bleachers. “Why?”

“There’s a cat that lives under there.”

Significantly better than Natsumi had previously thought. “Okay. Show me.”

In Natsumi’s significantly less-than-humble opinion, Mochi only barely passed for a cat. It was a tiny, white ball of fluff that hissed and seethed and tore through the grass like it was looking for something to kill. She loved it. She snapped a pic of the cat mid-motion, sprinting past her with a distinctly un-catlike rage on its tiny face. She sent the picture to Fuyuhiko. “This you?” She smirked at her own genius and slipped her phone back in her pocket. 

Peko was looking at Mochi like it was the most blessed thing to grace god’s earth, because of course she was. She just loved angry, pathetic little guys. The cat spotted the light of one of her eyebeams dancing on its paw, and immediately tried to pounce on it. Peko cracked a smile. That was good. Natsumi sat down next to her in the dirt. Ew. The things she did for her fucked up family. She would have to charge Fuyuhiko reparations for this later. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

The smile slid off Peko’s face immediately. Oops.

“Talk about what?” She asked, voice clipped.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Last night was a shitshow.”

Peko buzzed audibly, a sound close enough to a sigh for Natsumi to get the memo. Peko drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “I know.” She said. “I messed up.”

“Yeah, big time.” Natsumi said. Peko glared at her. “Don’t look at me like that. The damage is already done, now fix it.”

“I’m not going back to the lab.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Natsumi watched Mochi lose its fucking mind trying to catch Peko’s eyebeam. “No one's fixing you. You're fixing what you did. Got it?”

Peko held dead still for so long, Natsumi almost thought she had powered down. “How do we do that?”

“Talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Fuck you. Talk to him.”

“I _can’t_.”

“Physically?”

Peko hesitated.

“That’s what I thought. So again, _fuck_ _you_. Talk to him.”

Peko wrapped her arms around her knees. “I don’t know how.” 

“Well, learn.” Natsumi said. Peko kept trailing her eyes along the ground, avoiding Natsumi’s gaze. Natsumi sighed. “Just tell him what happened.”

“I can’t.” Peko’s teeth worried at the edge of her lip. “Someone might find out.”

“Bullshit, I already found out. What’s the issue?”

Peko laced her fingers together. “Because then he’ll know. And I won’t be able to take it back.” 

Natsumi sighed, shifted her weight around until she was sitting cross-legged. “You don’t have to like, profess your love for him or whatever.” Peko glared at her. “I’m just saying. If you don’t talk to him, he’s going to have a coronary and you’re going to have the robot equivalent.”

Peko snorted.

“Baby steps, Pekoyama. Make up, make out, whatever.” 

“Shut up.” Peko said. The words just sounded sad. 

Natsumi sighed. “If you talk to him, I’ll help you sneak the cat into your room.”

There was an extremely long stretch of silence. 

“Fine.” 

Fuyuhiko hadn’t slept at all the night before, he layed dead-eyed in bed carving gouges in the ceiling with his eyes. It took until sunlight started to bleed through the blinds for him to finally pass out. He woke up with the sun already high in the sky, the familiar ache of a bad night’s sleep already making his head throb. He groaned and rolled out of bed, landed on the floor with a thump. He barely felt it. 

Peko was mad at him. Everyone kept saying it wasn’t his fault, but he knew better. There was no way in hell it was her fault, so that left only him to blame. And if no one else was going to blame him, he’d give himself more than enough hell to make up for it. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. There was no way she would have texted him, not after he had upset her. Still, he felt that sliver of hope waxing in his chest as he turned on the screen. Four messages. Thank god. None from her. Fuck.

Natsumi  
  
shes fine  
  
talk to her  
  
but like dont be weird abt it  
  
gonna make her not-eat lunch w people and see if that helps  
  


It was almost noon already. Lunch could be good. It would be a welcome distraction, anyway. And if he happened to see her, whatever. That was a coincidence. That was just pure luck. He threw his uniform on, brushed the sleep from his teeth, and headed to the dining hall. 

Once he got there, Fuyuhiko beelined for the coffee. The machine was on its last dregs, and all the flavored drinks were already gone. Great. On its own, coffee tasted like dirt. He grabbed the last of the drip and a handful of sugar packets. That would have to do. 

On his way to sit down, he chanced a glance at Natsumi’s table. Sure enough, Peko was sitting there with the rest of the girls. She balanced her chin in her hand, eyes focused on Natsumi in what most people would consider rapt attention, but Fuyuhiko knew her too well. She was zoned out, her body there but her brain elsewhere. She didn’t notice him looking, or maybe she didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t blame her. He turned away. 

Soda was sitting at his table. Again. Great.

“One time.” Fuyuhiko set his coffee down so hard that some splashed out of the cup. “I said you could sit with me one time.”

“Oh, hey!” Soda smiled at him, his freaky shark teeth shining. “Nice to see you, man.”

“Did you even fucking hear me?” Fuyuhiko sat down. “I don’t wanna sit with you. We’re not friends. Please leave.”

Soda laughed, a nervous, grating sound that made Fuyuhiko’s skin crawl. Soda leaned forward, speaking in a hushed voice. “Could you do me a solid? Just let me sit here one more time?”

Fuyuhiko ripped open a sugar packet with his teeth and dumped it into his coffee. “Why the hell do you want to sit here so bad?”

“Well,” Soda’s eyes darted around the room. “Remember how Junko came by the other day?”

Fuyuhiko stopped right in the middle of shredding another sugar packet. “Jesus, man, really?”

“I thought, maybe, she might come by again?” Soda said. 

The guy clearly needed a wake-up call. Fuyuhiko stirred his drink with a wooden stick and leveled Soda with his most remorseless gaze, the one he usually reserved for the most aggravating goons. “She’s not gonna fuck you, dude.”

Soda’s eyes widened, and he shot back in his seat like Fuyuhiko had hit him with his fists instead of his words. “That’s not— That isn’t— Shut up!” 

“That’s the cost of sitting here. If you act like a moron, you have to pay the moron tax.”

“What’s the moron tax?”

“Getting hazed by the fucking yakuza.” 

Soda pouted and started separating his food by color. He didn’t move from his seat. Fuyuhiko groaned. Whatever. Kazuichi Soda wasn’t worth his fucking energy. He took a sip of his coffee, four sugar packets and it was still too bitter. 

He glanced over at Peko’s table again. She was twirling the end of one of her braids around her finger. The harsh light of the fluorescents made everything else look washed-out and dismal, but not her. Her hair shone in the light. It looked so soft. It was soft, he knew that for a fact. God, he was fucked. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Soda asked, snapping Fuyuhiko back down to earth.

Fuyuhiko had no idea what Soda was talking about, but the answer was still glaringly obvious. “No.”

Soda either didn’t hear or didn’t care. “You should talk to her,” He talked through a mouthful of half-chewed food. “Tell her how you feel.”

Fuyuhiko snorted. “Tell Enoshima how you feel. Or Tanaka. Or Nevermind. Or Nanami.” 

Soda glared at Fuyuhiko, the perpetual tears in his eyes absolutely tanking any chance he had of coming off as intimidating. “Maybe I will.” He poked his food with his chopsticks. “Maybe I’ll ask one of them out.”

“You do that.” Fuyuhiko said. “Just leave me out of it.”

“Well, yeah. I’m not gonna ask _you_.”

“If that was meant to insult me, you’re gonna have to try harder.”

“Fuck you.” Soda whined. 

“Fuck you too.”

Fuyuhiko dicked around in the dining hall for as long as possible. Peko and Natsumi left long before him, Enoshima never showed, and Soda eventually got bored. He probably had a potential love interest to disgust, or a car to fuck. Regardless of the reason, he shot Fuyuhiko a shaky smile and left. 

Fuyuhiko went back to his room, closed the blinds, and laid on his bed in the dark. It was hours before Peko usually showed up. If she was even showing up. The bed felt empty. He didn’t know it was possible for a twin-sized bed to feel so fucking empty. The room was darker and quieter than it had been all year, no red glow to pierce through the shadows, no soft whirring of fans. He had gotten too used to the noise, there was no way he’d be able to fall asleep. If that was even what he was trying to do, he had no idea. 

He got up, paced the room, put his shoes on then took them back off. He grabbed his phone, let his eyes adjust to the light, willing that adjustment period to be long enough for him to figure out what to say. No dice. He pulled up his messages with Peko. The last one she sent him was still there, typed across the screen in unmistakable letters. “Miss you.” God he missed her. He should text her. No he shouldn’t. What would he even say? He’d probably make it worse. And yet, the temptation was too great to resist. His thumbs hovered over the keypad.

Her typing bubble popped up before he could get anything down. He immediately shoved his phone under the pillow. He stood back up and paced the room again, adrenaline and anxiety having a fucking cage fight behind his ribs. He managed about a minute before he dove back onto the bed to check his phone. 

Peko  
  
Sorry about last night.  
  
I'm sorry too  
  
You don't have to be.  
  
It was lonely without you.  
  


He dragged a hand through his hair. Here went nothing.

Peko  
  
You don't have to answer this  
  
Say no if you want to  
  
But I could try my hand at a B&E  
  


The typing bubble popped up for an agonizing couple of minutes. It disappeared. Then appeared again. Then disappeared. The wall was looking like a great place for him to chuck his phone. Finally, the screen lit up. 

Peko  
  
I'm in the dojo.  
  


Well. At least she let him down nicely.

Peko  
  
But I can lock the door.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: in an earlier draft of this chapter, Fuyuhiko saw the picture of Mochi and almost cried


	7. Red as a Heart

Fuyuhiko left his room so fast he nearly forgot his shoes. He had made a mental note of where all the security cameras were at Hope’s Peak, and kept a wide berth around their range of vision as he tore through the joke of a building. Whatever Ultimate Architect designed this place must have had a field day, because it was on a whole other level of convoluted House of Leaves bullshit. He reached the dojo, jiggled the door handle. She really did lock it. He could just shoot the lock out. He reached for his waistband. Wait, no. Bad idea. He lifted his hand and knocked instead, which was the normal thing to do. A great start. 

It was a few seconds before the door opened, but it did. Peko looked out from the gap. Thank god. “You’re not very good at breaking and entering.” 

“I figured I’d try the straightforward approach for once.”

She opened the door the rest of the way. “Come on in.” 

The dojo was, in a word, beautiful. He gave Hope’s Peak a lot of shit for its architecture, but this was one thing they got right. The room was all dark wood and pristine paper paneling, and it smelled like sword oil and new leather. But the best part was the garden. Cherry blossom trees were lined up in perfect rows, and when the weather was right, they bloomed and each stray gust of wind carried petals to the ground, pink as blood. It was too cold for that now, the flowers were gone, but the trees still swayed in the wind, branches flexing like hands desperate for something to grab hold of. The sun was barely starting to set. It hung in the sky, heavy as a heart, kissing the tops of the trees. 

The dojo was empty except for the two of them, and apparently Peko intended to keep it that way, because she reached past him and locked the door. She was wearing her hakama, sword in hand. The light was just low enough for her eyebeams to start glowing, red light leaving the impression of a flush across her face.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hello.” 

“So. I’m here.” He held his hands out at his sides. 

“You’re here.” She nodded. 

God, he was so fucking awkward. Here went nothing. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt something stupid. Something to stall for time because he still had no idea how to apologize for whatever the fuck he did. “Need help training?”

He meant it as a joke, because she could cut him to ribbons without even breaking a sweat. But he heard her fans whir, watched her twirl her sword in her hand. “Alright, if you’re offering.”

Looked like it was time to get his ass handed to him. “I mean, I make a pretty good dummy.” 

Peko smiled, which instantly made him relax, and slid the bamboo cover over her blade. Sword to shinai, deadly became delicate. “There are more over there, if you want to spar.” 

He followed her gesture, grabbed a sword at random, and tried a practice swing. Not bad. He wasn’t near as practiced with it as she was, but he could be a whole lot worse. He turned to face her, held the sword in an imitation of her defensive stance. “So, are you gonna show me how to use this thing, or just let me fend for myself?” He asked. A smile flickered at the edge of her lip. 

“If you insist.” She said. “First, you’ll need to adjust your stance.” 

“What’s wrong with my stance?” 

“You’re off-balance. Someone could just — ” She approached him, put her hand on his chest, and gave him a gentle push. “Knock you off your feet.” Her point was proven when he fell back a step. He narrowly resisted the urge to put a hand to his chest, to trace where her fingers had been. 

Not the time, Kuzuryu. “Alright, how do I not eat shit?”

“Feet shoulder-width apart, it gives you a better center of gravity.” She said. 

He wasn’t used to the instruction. He was used to being thrown into the fray, trial by error and execution. This was nice. This was simple. He adjusted his stance per her directions, held his sword up. “Like this?”

“Good, but not exactly.” She reached out, carefully. “May I?”

“Sure.” He said. 

She stepped behind him, put a hand on his elbow and brought his arm in towards his chest. “You need to protect your vitals, someone could pierce straight through your heart.” 

Someone already had, he thought, and then bit his tongue. Quick as her hand was there, it was gone, and she circled back around to face him. She looked him up and down, dragged her eyebeams over him as she sized up his stance. Her gaze made his ears heat up. “Better.” She said. “Would you like to get started?”

“Sure.” 

“If you take three hits, you’re out.” She twirled her sword in her hand, a graceful motion. He watched her, wide-eyed, and she must have mistaken his awe for fear because she moved the blade steady to her side, said “I won’t hurt you.” 

“I know.” He said. “I won’t hurt you either.” And maybe that was a dumb thing to say, because he couldn’t even if he tried, but he wanted her to hear it. 

“I know.” She said, the wind warping her voice to a whisper. 

They stood in the silence for a few seconds before he felt the need to fill it. “So, how long has it been since you’ve had a moving target?” 

“A while.” She said, and shifted her stance immediately, held her sword at the ready, the tip pointed towards him. There was no malice in her expression, no tense to what passed for her muscles. He  _ should _ feel terrified about facing down the Ultimate Swordswoman, he knew that, but he never was good at doing what he was supposed to. Heart in his lovestruck throat. She watched, waited, got tired of waiting. “How about you make a move and we can cut that time to nothing?”

He wasn’t sure how her fights normally began, but he knew how they ended. The ones that weren’t school-sanctioned, anyway. In a spray of pink, a corpse crumpled in front of her like it was kneeling at her feet. 

She wouldn’t make him bleed, he knew that. But she might make him kneel. 

He shot forward. 

Peko stared him down the entire time, eyebeams tracking his movements. He swiped the sword at her chest, a purposefully hasty strike, trying for a feint so he could kick her legs out from under her. 

It didn’t work. She easily parried his strike, dodged his kick, and brought her sword close enough to his neck that she managed to land a hit. “Strike one.” She said. “Do you know what your mistake was?”

“Agreeing to fight the Ultimate Swordswoman when I’m just some fucking guy?” 

She buzzed out a laugh. “Well, yes. But more importantly, you were too hasty. Be patient.”

Patient. He could do that. Having her blade that close to his jugular was a bad idea, even when it was encased in bamboo. He held her gaze, waited for her to start staring him down instead of keeping her eyes on the blade. Sure enough, she held the eye contact, and he pressed his sword against hers as hard as he could, hoping to disarm her and knowing there was no way in hell he’d get that lucky. No dice. But he did manage to knock it away from his neck just enough that he could step back, get out of immediate fake-danger. 

“Good.” She said. “Find your opponent’s weakness, and use it against them.”

“You have a weakness?” That was news to him.

She didn’t respond, just bit her lip and held her sword at the ready, began circling him. He started turning with her, maintaining eye contact, not giving her the opportunity to get behind him. He held his sword the way she told him to, began advancing on her and watched as she took up a defensive stance. 

“Now what the fuck do I do?” He asked.

“Wait for an opening.” 

“We’ll be here all night.” 

“Then make one.” The sharp edge of her sword was facing him, a reflex she corrected by rotating it in her hand. Dull edge outward, no threat, just Peko. If that was an opening, he missed it, not at all used to mercy.

He rushed forward, brought his blade down and she spun out of the way, grazed his shoulder. 

“Strike two.” She said. 

He wanted to call bullshit on that one. He barely felt it, but they weren’t trying to be brutal. It was barely even a fight, by their usual standards, at least. She wasn’t going to lash out or pull a fast one or aim for the heart. Not on purpose, anyway. 

Dick moves apparently weren’t out of the question though, because while he was busy thinking, she swept his legs out from under him. He stumbled backward, dropped the sword on instinct, closed his eyes and braced for impact. It never came. 

Instead of the crack of his head against cobblestone, there was an arm around his waist. He opened his eyes, and Peko had caught him in one arm, the other hand still holding the sword, now at his throat. She had the wide eyes of a girl who had moved on instinct, and the warm hands of an android on the verge of overheating. He was being dipped like a dancer, heels scraping the stone, incapable of looking at anything except her. She had been right, earlier, someone could sweep him right off his feet.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “I didn’t think. My body just moved on its own.” 

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” He looked down at the blade pressed against his jugular. “But I think you won.”

Her grip on the sword slipped, and it hit the cobblestones with a clatter. “Oh.” She said. “Lucky me.” 

“Yeah.” His fingers found his jugular, traced the feeling of her sword. His heart was in his mouth but it wasn’t fear. “Lucky you.” 

She put her free hand on the back of his neck and he nearly spit his heart out at her feet, but she just used the leverage to set him upright, let him go. He wanted to tell her no, it was okay, she could hold him like that for as long as she wanted. If she wanted, anyway. But that was a dumb thing to say because she was clearly over the whole touching him thing, walking out after their not-kiss was proof enough of that. The sword lay on the ground between them, but neither of them moved to pick it up. The wind sent the tree branches grasping at the sky. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, finally.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He said, took his hand off his throat. “Do you wanna talk about it?” They both knew he didn’t mean the sparring.

“I think — ” She stopped, hummed a sigh, and tried again. “Yes. That would be best.” 

“Okay. Can we start with what happened?”

She crossed her arms, picked at a stray thread on her sleeve. “I noticed a pattern, so I decided to test it.” She looked down at the ground. “And I was right. And I got scared.”

God, he felt like an asshole. She was scared and what had he done about it? Nothing. “Shit, Peko, I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t you.” She said. “Well, it was, but it wasn't.”

It was him. Or it wasn’t. Or it was. “What are you talking about?”

Great, now he also  _ sounded _ like an asshole. She closed her eyes for a second, and the sun dipped just low enough that when she opened them again, her eyebeams were their only source of light.

“When I get too close to you, I glitch.” 

Oh, fuck, it  _ was _ him. He instinctively took a step back from her. “Shit, I’ll stay back then.”

She stepped over the sword, reached out and caught his hands in hers. “No! No. This is fine. This is good.” She looked down at their hands. “Don’t worry about it, I just got carried away.”

He laughed, a nervous sound crawling out of his mouth, because he could never control anything that came out of his fucking mouth. “Carried away?” Case in point. 

“Yes.” She nodded. “I was careless, and I got too close.” 

She had gotten very close. Earth-shatteringly, heart-meltingly close. The kind of close that wasn’t allowed by any stretch of the imagination. The kind of close that made his knees go weak. 

“What’s too close?” He asked, looked down at their hands, fingers still laced together. “I don’t want to fuck you up. If sitting next to you makes you glitch out I don’t wanna push it, ya know?” 

Peko’s chest panged. She should tell him to keep a distance. She had been gearing up to do that the entire fight, but now that he was standing in front of her, hands in hers, she didn’t know if she could do it. His expression was so earnest. 

To be fair, she had been alright so far. She malfunctioned, of course, but she had already been doing that. She’d survived approximately one hundred and seventy-one nights curled up in and around his arms without breaking. Whatever the point of no return was, she hadn’t hit it. Yet. She remembered the before, back at the Kuzuryu Compound, the calm before the contact. Less glitches, but more uncertainty. His hands had always been just out of reach. 

“Sitting next to me is definitely okay.” She squeezed his hands. “And this is fine.” She took a step toward him, stood close enough that he could hear her gears turning, wrapped her arms around his waist. She put light pressure on the small of his back. He took the hint, and stepped forward. “Even this is fine, but — ” She tilted his chin up, did her best to mimic the pose that they had been standing in when they were interrupted. Sure enough, something in her chest thrummed. “This is dangerous.”

Fuyuhiko considered that to be the understatement of the century. This was life-threatening. This was going to be the fucking death of him. He could hear her fans and her processor whirring, feel the soft heat rising from her face. 

“So this is the limit?” He whispered it, but the words still felt much too loud. 

Peko considered it. Maybe. She didn’t have evidence to the contrary, no real data to rely on other than the fact that she hadn’t hit the floor yet. “I’m not sure.” She said. “I haven’t had the chance to test beyond this.”

“I mean, we can’t really get much closer.” He said.

That wasn’t entirely correct. She could find the point before the breaking point, the absolute closest they could get before she gave out, and call that the limit. Give herself a hard rule. She did well when given guidelines. 

“We could.” She said, and his heart hit a speed not yet measured by scientists. 

“We could?” His voice was embarrassingly close to a squeak. She caught his hands, which were hanging empty and stupid at his sides. She brought them up to her waist. 

“Is this okay ?” She asked.

“Yeah. As long as you’re okay ?”

“Yes.”

He swallowed, and she could definitely fucking tell because they were nearly glued to each other at this point. “So  _ this _ is the limit?” 

“Maybe.” She sounded hesitant. As she said it, she wrapped her arms back around him, tighter than before. 

“Any problems?” He asked.

No more so than usual. She was used to her processor picking up speed at this point. “Still good.” She said. “Can I — ?”

“Yes.” Fuck, he said that way too fast. Oh, god, she was going to look him in the eyes and see right through to his stupid little heart. Sure enough, she stared at him, because she always stared at him, and he was used to it normally but not when she was only an inch from his face. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. Make that more like a centimeter from his face.

“Okay. This is it.” She said. Her nose bumped against his when she spoke, and she must have felt his hands start to shake because he was  _ touching _ her  _ waist _ with them what the  _ fuck _ . He closed his eyes. 

“This is it.” He echoed.

“We can’t get closer.” She said, and her nose brushed against his again as if to prove a point, that they could very much get just a little bit closer. 

“We can’t.” He repeated, but she moved her hands from his waist to his hair and he believed the words but he didn’t mean them. 

Peko dragged her thumbs across the shaved lines on the sides of his head. Her hands were warm, and shaking a little, and he waited. That was what she liked about him, he always waited. She could feel his breath on her lips, and it should have felt warm but she was already overheating. All the malfunctions were her hardware’s way of communicating with her software. Stress on her system usually meant that something was wrong, that she should retreat. 

But this wasn’t wrong, it was him. She didn’t want to step back, she wanted to kiss him and if that broke her, it would be worth it. She was already comprised of approximately 47.8% error codes, may as well let the whole thing light up red. There was one thing she could do, one sure way to suss out her limits. She opened her mouth to speak and her whole body reacted; fans leapt to high speed, her processor shuddered, and her voice box nearly gave out but the words still managed to slip through. “Hiko, I want — ” 

That was as far as she got before her tongue stopped working. 

His eyes snapped open, his hands flew to her shoulders to steady her. “Peko?”

“I’m okay.” 

“Did you just — ?”

“Yes.” Her hand was still resting on the side of his head. He leaned into it, placed his hand over hers and looked at her, eyes so soft they were about ready to melt off his face. If she reached out, she could smear one down his cheek. “Hiko.” She said again, and he broke into a grin. 

She pulled him into a hug and he threw his arms around her neck, held her tight and she lifted him off the ground. She twirled him in a clumsy circle, his feet skimming the cobblestones and when she set him back down she was smiling, laughing a little, music to his ears, making his heart swell like an orchestra. She stood shaking in his arms, smiling, eye beams like a lighthouse in the dark, red as a heart.

“Hiko.” She said it again, all disbelief. 

“Yeah, that’s my name,” He said, the joke getting caught in his throat.  _ “Please _ fucking wear it out.” She reached out, wiped tears from his cheeks with her thumbs, and that’s when he realized he’d been crying, but he didn’t care, she  _ said his name _ . Well, part of it, but still. That was more than enough reason for his heart to start coming out his eyes. “How the fuck are you doing that?” He asked.

“I think I found a loophole.” She said. “Since it’s not technically your name.”

“Hell, it is now. Your version’s better.” 

She held his face in her hands, dragged her thumbs over his cheeks, smearing tears. “Hiko.” She murmured, and he had to fight tooth and nail to resist the urge to press a kiss to her palm. “Hi, Hiko.”

“Hey.” He laughed a little, a watery smile. “What is it?”

It was so much, almost too much. She was overheating, shaking, buzzing in the back of her brain, his name on her tongue. “Can I hug you again?” She asked.

“Fucking of course.” He held his arms out to her, and she fell into them, closed the gap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you noticed Peko quote Sasuke, don't worry she did it consciously and on purpose.  
> This is turning into A Million Times That Peko and Fuyuhiko Didn't Kiss (And the One Time They Did)


	8. Red Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan Natsumi

They stood there and hugged until the sun dipped so low past the horizon that it may as well not exist. Fuyuhiko dropped his forehead against Peko’s shoulder, and she ran her fingers across his scalp, heat through his hair. He held her tight but not crushing, the way you hold something breakable to make sure it doesn’t slip from your fingers. 

Eventually the sun set and her eyebeams became their only source of light, Valentine red in the darkness. She stepped back with a smile, a squeeze of his hands, hers warm despite the winter chill closing in around them. 

He sat on the dojo floor as Peko got ready to go, gathered her things. She almost forgot the sword, had to double back and pick it up off the ground. He looked down at the cobblestones, saw a flash of pink and did a double take. Not blood, but equally bewildering. 

There was a small sakura blossom caught in the crack between two stones. Fuyuhiko’s not an expert on flowers by any means, but even he knew it was nowhere near the right time of year for them to bloom. Still, there it was, laying on the ground like some sort of fucking miracle, something beautiful slipping through the cracks. 

He picked it up. She loved him, she loved him not. He reached for a petal, stopped immediately when he saw the fingertip grip they had on the stem. The flower was barely clinging to life, and what was his first instinct, to peel it apart? Typical yakuza bullshit, hurt something for his own benefit. As if the flower had any answers. 

“Are you ready to go?” Peko asked, sheathed the sword. 

The wind hit him in the back of the neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. That was enough introspection for a lifetime. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” He cupped his hand around the flower, shielded it from the wind, followed after her. No clue why he took it with him. Probably to prove some sort of point, try to convince himself that he wasn’t the fuckup he knew he was. Self-deception, plain and simple. 

Maybe he’d press it. 

\---

The next few weeks passed in a blur, the end of the semester came seemingly out of nowhere and passed just as quickly as it arrived. Winter’s wind brought Fuyuhiko old terror, memories of freezing half to death in the mountains, Peko’s arm warm around him. He had gotten far too used to the heat. 

Cold turned to freezing, biting frost bore down on Hope’s Peak and made the building the students’ only sanctuary. The students that stayed at the school over winter break, anyway. Which happened to be most of the student population. Due to an astronomical amount of dead, absent, or just plain terrible parents, many Ultimates opted to spend their holidays within the better-in-comparison walls of Hope’s Peak Academy. The Kuzuryus were no exception, which meant that Peko was no exception either. 

She was reminded of this by the battering-ram style knocking of one Natsumi Kuzuryu. “Let me in!”

“I’m busy.” Peko said, laying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. 

“No you’re not.” 

No, she wasn’t. Winter break provided Peko with free time, which provided her with the not-so-subtle reminder that she was at a complete loss with what to do with free time. She got up, opened the door. “Yes?”

Natsumi was in her coat, scarf hanging around her neck, mittens on. “I’m here to repay my debt.”

Never a good thing to hear. “Your what?”

“Heard you talked to Fuyuhiko. Wait, sorry, _Hiko_ . Nice one, by the way. He’s been talking about it for fucking days now. Will _not_ shut the fuck up. Anyway, let’s go get your cat.”

Peko skipped neatly over the last sentence. “What is he saying?”

“A buncha sappy shit, mostly. I stopped listening.” Natsumi pulled off one of her mittens, examined her cuticles. “Do you want your cat or not?”

Peko physically bit her tongue to keep from pursuing her line of questioning. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I made a promise, a yakuza always keeps her word.”

It was a clumsy, vaguely threatening show of kindness, which was a Kuzuryu sibling classic. Peko went warm-heart.

“Let me get my coat.”

Natsumi found Mochi huddled under the skeleton of a shrub, foliage long-lost to the wind and the weather. 

“Hey, Peko! Get over here! I found your kid!” Natsumi yelled behind her, heard the tell-tale crunch of Peko’s shoes on the icy grass. 

“There you are.” Peko said, to the cat. “Hello.”

Natsumi grabbed a stick and tried to lure Mochi out with it like she was a dog, bait ignored. “Turn on your eyebeams.”

Peko did, aimed them at the ground and Mochi extended a cautious paw to bat at the light. “We almost kissed again.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s been telling me about it in-between losing his fucking mind and pressing flowers. Makes me wanna barf.” Natsumi knelt down, held her hand out to Mochi. “So, you two are at pet names now?” 

“No.” Peko tugged at the end of one of her braids. “It’s more than that.”

Aw. “Ew.” Natsumi nearly got a knuckle-full of cat teeth. “You sure you want this thing as a roommate?”

“We can’t leave her out here.” Peko said, and she had a point. The cold crept around them, sky gray and heavy, snow at any second. “He’s been pressing flowers?”

“Yeah, borrowed my textbooks to do it because the dweeb actually studies his.” Natsumi recoiled as Mochi unsheathed her claws and aimed for her fingers. “Don’t come crying to me when it starts shredding your sheets.”

“Hiko?”

“No, dumbass. The cat.” The cat in question gave Natsumi the second most intense gaze she was getting at that very moment, Peko provided the first. “I don’t want to know anything about my brother and your sheets. If you volunteer information, I’ll pawn your voice box.”

“Try me.” Peko said, no bravado, just an even, impartial threat. Impressive. Natsumi turned back to the cat.

“Mushy. Get the fuck out here.”

“It’s Mochi.”

“Whatever. Just scare her towards me.” With some hesitation, Peko did, and Mochi darted out from under the bush. Natsumi grabbed her, scooped her up. “Let’s go!”

The two of them bolted towards Hope’s Peak, Peko tore through the doors while Natsumi looped around the outside. She followed the curve of the building until she got to the window of Peko’s dorm, stood there waiting with Mochi writhing in her arms until Peko finally got to her room and cracked it open.

“Do you think it has worms?” Natsumi asked, held Mochi at arms length away from her chest, the cat hissing and spitting like a pot about to boil over.

“Just put her in here.” Peko stood off to the side and Natsumi dropped Mochi on the floor like a grenade. The cat landed on her feet, shaking and seething, puffed up like a cotton ball. “Thank you.” Peko said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t implicate me if you get caught. Snitches get their brains bashed in.” 

“Duly noted.” Peko extended a hand and Natsumi took it, let Peko pull her through the window. 

It only took her a few seconds of looking around the room for the cat to decide that its new home was under Peko’s bed. Peko’s ugly-ass bed, sheets and blanket the school-provided stuff with the Hope’s Peak crest emblazoned all over it. No decor, no personality anywhere. 

Natsumi turned to Peko. “Your room’s fucking sad. Do you have like, stuff?”

Peko avoided her gaze, surveyed the room. “I have the sword. And manga. And some clothes.” Mochi hissed as if to remind her of her presence. “And Mochi.”

“Do you want stuff?”

Peko froze like the decision was causing her physical stress. After an agonizing bit of silence, she landed on “Maybe.”

Natsumi groaned. “You’re impossible to talk to. Make a decision, or I’m putting the cat back.” She started walking toward the bed like she was planning to scoop up the cat and run. It worked like a charm. 

“Yes. Fine. I want stuff. For Mochi, at least.”

“Alright, great.” Natsumi pulled her phone from her pocket, typed out a quick text and hit send. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Where do you think, dumbass? To get stuff.”

Dipshit  
  
never say im a bitch again  
  
No promises  
  
u wont say that when i tell u my good deed  
  
Your what  
  
abt to blow half my allowance on ur creepy gf and her fucking cat  
  
so like dont expect a christmas present  
  
Fuck off she's not creepy  
  
Or my gf  
  


Natsumi pushed the cart, followed Peko through the department store. 

“Just pick out whatever, I don’t care.” She said, then “Unless it’s ugly. Don’t pick something ugly.”

Peko ran her hand over a plush blanket, felt the fibers beneath her fingers. “How do I tell if something’s ugly?”

“If looking at it pisses you off.”

That wasn’t a useful metric. It took a very, very long time of looking at something for Peko to figure out whether or not it made her mad. She grabbed something at random, held it up. “Is this ugly?”

“That is a white pillowcase.” Natsumi’s voice did not offer any sort of insight as to whether that was good or bad. “Do you want it?”

Peko’s pillowcases were already white. Getting a copy of something she already had seemed counterintuitive to the entire purpose of their outing. “No.”

“Great. Find something you do want.” 

Peko scanned the aisle, bedding lining the walls in countless colors, patterns. She could do this. It was a strange, foreign activity, but she could do it. She eliminated anything bright or busy right off the bat. Rough fabrics were also disqualified after a painstaking process that included touching all the sheets.

“Pekoyama, I’m giving you a time limit. It ended five minutes ago.”

Peko stared at the blankets. “This.”

‘This’ was light gray bedding, soft to the touch. Natsumi didn’t call it ugly, which was probably the most significant seal of approval that Peko was going to get. 

“Great, toss ‘em in.”

Peko did, and the two of them snaked through the rest of the aisles. Peko ended up with some cat supplies, posters, string lights, and very nearly a Roomba before Natsumi pointed out that Mochi would hate the thing. Their last stop was the makeup section, where Peko tossed a single tube of liquid liner into the cart and proceeded to stand guard as Natsumi ripped the protective plastic off no less than nine lipsticks and swatched them on her arms.

“Are you dating my brother?”

Peko’s system nearly crashed. Hot red panic like she was short circuiting, strangled on strings of error code. “Am I what?”

“Dating my brother.” Natsumi said like the words didn’t carry the weight that they both knew they did. “I have a right to know. So does he.”

No. Absolutely not. That went without saying. They were being careful, checking their peripherals, pretending not to know each other in public so they wouldn’t rouse suspicion, holding themselves back in private. Well, not so much anymore. She said his name and there was a subtle shift, something between them clicked into place. A little less hesitance in their closeness, comfort in their familiarity. There was still tension, of course, but she’s fairly certain that will always be there. Tension that was being made a lot worse by Natsumi just _asking_ her if they were _dating_ , as if that was a question she could even answer. The prospect alone was enough to send her processor stuttering in her chest.

“We can’t do that.” Peko said, because they couldn’t. 

“Yeah, okay.” Natsumi rolled her eyes, dragged a neon pink lipstick across the back of her hand, leaving the same blood-pink trail as a sword slicing skin. 

Peko buzzed, drew herself up to her full height. “We cannot do that.” She said again, strength in repetition. She thought she sounded convincing, but Natsumi just sighed, tossed the lipstick in the cart.

“Whatever. Let’s get back to campus, if I see a man in public after dark I’ll kill him on instinct.” 

The subway ride is as quiet as a subway ride can be, Natsumi texting and Peko glaring at anyone who glared at her sword. They got back to Hope’s Peak no problem. Natsumi helped Peko carry her bags to her room, which meant that Natsumi carried one bag and Peko carried three. They dumped them in the corner and Peko laid down on the floor, looked at Mochi curled up under her bed. 

“You know I’m not a snitch, right?” Natsumi asked.

Peko sighed, the vibration in her chest tinny against the floorboards. “I know.”

“Like, I’m not gonna tell anyone about the cat. Or anything else.” 

Peko gets the message, loud and clear. She turns to look at Natsumi. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it.” Natsumi rubbed at the streak of lipstick across the back of her palm, smeared it into a circle. “You got any plans tonight?”

Yes. “No.”

Natsumi could see through Peko’s lies like they were made of cellophane. “Ew.” She reached into one of the bags, tossed a cat toy across the floor and sent Mochi bolting from beneath the bed on her way out. “Tell him I said hi.”

Hiko  
  
Do you want to stay in my room tonight.  
  
Sure  
  
What time do you want me over there  
  
Is now okay.  
  
Now is great  
  


Natsumi  
  
Is it weird to send Peko a heart emoji  
  
its weird to ask me abt it  
  
dont u have friends  
  
HA  
  


Fuyuhiko opted to enter through the window. Added security, less chance of getting caught. He tapped on the glass, spelled out her name in morse code and knew she’d hear his heart frozen in his fingers. Oh god, what if he had the wrong room? Well, then he’d just have to commit seppuku. Good thing he happened to know someone with a sword. 

The window opened, and it was Peko opening it, thank god. “I was expecting you at the door.” 

“And risk getting caught sniffing around the girls dorms? Fat chance.”

“You’re right, getting caught climbing through my window is much less suspicious.”

He froze with his hand on the windowpane. “Fuck, you’re right. I’ll go to the door.” 

Peko held her hand out for him. “Just get in here.” She said, small smile, and helped him climb through the window. He managed not to hit the floorboards through a combination of luck and her hands, steady as he toppled into her arms. 

“Hey.” He said, hated how breathless he sounded but at least he could blame it on her arms around his ribcage. Then he felt something at his feet, looked down to see Peko’s cat trying her damndest to separate his shoelace from his actual shoe. “Do you fucking mind? I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

Mochi, it turned out, did not mind, because she kept biting at the aglet like it was her new favorite toy. 

“She likes you.” Peko said, stepped back and his skin felt cold the second she moved. 

“You have terrible taste.” He said to the cat, who did not respond. “What’s up?” He said to Peko, who did respond. 

“I have stuff now.” She said, pointed to a few shopping bags in the corner. 

“Natsumi told me. Remind me to use this as ammo next time she claims to be a stone cold bitch.”

“She also helped me get Mochi in my room.”

“Damn, she really is going soft.” He said, and by she he meant him. 

Peko smiled. “Yes, she is.”

He wanted to hug her again but that would be weird, so he didn’t. He put his hands in his pockets, a time-out for wanting to reach out and catch hers, kiss her knuckles and feel her processor hum against his lips. Christ, Kuzuryu, get it together. He looked around the room for anything else to focus on, landed on the bags piled in the corner like they’d been given a time out. 

“Want some help with your stuff?” 

She did, in fact, want help with her stuff. She had supplies for the cat, new bedding, some clothes, posters of every magical girl he’d ever seen, string lights as red as her eyes. She sat in the corner and untangled them, plugged them in and flashed her eyebeams at the bulbs when they lit up. His heart skipped so many beats he thought he might flatline. 

He ended up making the bed. It seemed the least intrusive option, he didn’t want to dictate how her posters were hung or where the lights went, but putting sheets on a bed pretty much only worked one way. He stripped off the Hope’s Peak-provided bedding and replaced it with what she picked out, dove gray and much softer, no more garish school colors. 

They worked in near-silence, Peko meticulously hung posters so that they were equally spaced apart. The string lights ended up left in the corner because Mochi had taken a liking to them, ignored every single toy they tossed at her and curled up in the lights instead. 

“Careful.” Peko talked to the cat like she was a person. “Don’t strangle yourself.” 

As though she could understand human speech, Mochi tangled herself further in the lights. Peko stepped toward her and she slipped from between the bulbs like a bat out of hell, rocketed towards the bed and used Fuyuhiko’s stomach as a launchpad to get to the other side of the room. 

“Ow, fuck!” He slapped his hand over his abdomen, more reflex than actual pain. “Peko, I’ve been hit.” 

“Are you alright?”

He gave a thumbs up. “I’ve had worse.”

Peko sat down on the bed, poked him in the side like she was checking for bruising and laughter rose in his throat before he could stop it. He wasn’t even ticklish, it was just the contact, one touch and he giggled like a schoolboy with a crush, which, well, he fucking is. He squirmed away, made room for her on the bed and blamed his blush on how hot the room was suddenly. 

Instead of laying down, she stood up, went to the dresser and grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which she’d been amassing ever since he let her borrow the pair of his. She tossed them to him. 

“Pajamas.” She said. “You can change in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t let himself overthink it, because then he’d sit here and lose his mind over wearing her clothes when he should be just putting them on like a sane person. He walked to the bathroom, kicked his clothes off with as little grace as a person could manage, and pulled her shirt over his head. Tokyo Kendo Championship 2009 was written across the chest, he smiled, knew she won the damn thing because she always did. The sweatpants were too big but he tied the strings tight, made them work.

When he left the bathroom, she had also changed, flopped down on the bed and was staring at Mochi, who was pointedly ignoring her.

“It’s still cool if I sleep in here?” He asked.

“Of course.” She said, made room for him and he sat down, back against the headboard, watched the cat crawl towards the bathroom, probably to sleep on his discarded clothes. Great. 

“You sure? I mean, you’ve been staying in my room for awhile. No one’s tried to kill me in my sleep so far, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“If I were a potential assassin, I’d stake out your room until the night that your bodyguard was indisposed. Then, I’d strike.” Well, fuck. She was right. He couldn’t argue with that. “Besides,” She continued, a hum to her voice. “It’s nice having you around.”

He wasn’t sure what Peko felt like when she glitched, but he was pretty sure that his heart did the organic equivalent at that exact second. “Oh.” He said, tongue struck still like a dead thing, dumbfounded to his core. “For fun?” Then he had to grab the sheets to avoid slapping his forehead because that was a dumbass thing to say.

“Yes.” There wasn’t any judgement in her voice. She reached out to where his hand was putting wrinkles in her new sheets, placed hers over his and he let go of the fabric immediately. 

“I like having you around, too.” He said, meant it as a confession but if she took it as an order he’d cut off his own pinky. “But Hope’s Peak is your fucking oyster. Hell, the world is. You don’t gotta stick by me.” 

Her hand froze on his, she pulled away and fuck, clearly he said something wrong. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.” She said, all monotone.

“Fuck. Shit. No, not like that. I’m a fucking idiot, let me start over.” He took a deep breath, did his best to sound like anything but a dumbass with a terminal case of foot-in-mouth disease. “No more bodyguard shit, just friends. If you’re hanging out with me, do it because you want to. Not because you have to.”

“I don’t have to.” She repeated, rolled the words from her voice box.

“Right. But if you want to, that’s another story.” He folded his hands in his lap, avoided her gaze because his words were heavier than concrete shoes and her eyes were more than deep enough to drown in. “You deserve to have whatever you want.”

Peko wasn’t sure what to do with that. The instinctual surge of panic fizzled out, static in her system as she tried to decode what he was trying to say and what she was feeling about it. Fear was easy to identify, a feeling that slipped through no problem, or was maybe put there on purpose to keep her in line. Fear of being unneeded, followed by hope that being needed didn’t matter, and a heartswell at the word ‘friends.’ She was quiet for a moment, reached out, placed her hand palm-up on the bed. He put his next to hers, let her to decide what to do with it. She took it, threaded their fingers together. 

“Friends keep each other safe, right?” Her volume was low. 

“Yeah. Friends keep each other safe.” He let out a heavy breath. “Friends care about each other. Friends usually don’t share a bed every night, but hey, extenuating circumstances.”

She laughed at that, and he placed a hand to his chest, relief pooling around his heart. She didn’t answer immediately, and that was fine. He’d wait his whole life if he had to. They went back to silence, stared out at the room, watched Mochi completely ignore what was one of the most important conversations of their lives. Her fans picked up, processor started whirring, the quiet room amplifying how hard she had to gear up to say something just to the left of what she was supposed to. 

“I do care about you.” She said, a robotic tinge to the words, heat in her palm, but she said it. 

He squeezed her hand, tried for reassuring, probably just seemed desperate. The telltale sting of tears was back behind his eyes and he blinked them away, felt his eyelashes wet on his cheeks. He never thought he’d hear that, not sincerely anyway. But she meant it, fought her system tooth and nail to spit it out. “I care about you too, Peko. You know that, right?”

She squeezed his hand back. “I know.” 

“Okay, thank god. I wasn’t sure how much more obvious I could get. Neon sign, maybe?” He ran his hand through the air like he was envisioning a marquee. “Big red letters: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu would kill and die for Peko Pekoyama.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She said, and sank down in the bed. 

“I don’t _have_ to. I _want_ to. Key difference.”

He laid down next to her. She pulled on his hand a little and he moved toward her, let her pull him into her arms. Silence again, comfortable this time, warm with his head on her shoulder. Again, he waited until Peko spoke up. “Do friends do this?”

He didn’t have enough experience with having friends to say. “I mean. We can. If you want. Anything you want, seriously. If you want something, let me know, and I’ll make it happen.” He was babbling like an idiot and she just listened, waited until he ran out of steam and laid there next to her panicking because every damn thing he said to her sounded like a confession. 

“Okay.” She said, and then “This is nice. I want this.”

He bit his tongue, because that did not mean what he wanted it to mean, which was good because it meant she was taking this seriously but it was also a little devastating. “Yeah?” 

Her arm was wrapped under his back, and she rested her hand on the dip of his waist, pulled him toward her until he was laying on his side, face resting where her neck and shoulder met. He could feel humming in her throat when she spoke, voice box vibrating. “I want to be close to you, Hiko.”

Thank god his face was hidden from her view. She probably would have been able to feel it burning if her skin wasn’t hot, electricity coursing just below the surface. Every time she said his name he felt tears pinpricking behind his eyes, heart humming. He reached out, curled his arm across her stomach as lightly as he could, as much of a hug as he could give with how they were laying. 

“Me too.” He did not let his lips touch her skin when he spoke but she still laughed a little, held him tighter.


	9. Red in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst make sure you've got creator's style on

Peko and Fuyuhiko didn’t usually look forward to New Year’s Eve. They had no reason to. Fuyuhiko would be dragged to some Kuzuryu-affiliated party, which would be large if he was lucky and family-only if he wasn’t. Peko would stand on the sidelines, hand to sword, eyes on the crowd if there was one and the floor if there wasn’t. A tense affair, to say the least. But this, like most things, was different at Hope’s Peak.

I Grew Up in the Kuzuryu Compound and All I Got Was This Trauma  
  
Hiko  
New Years Plans  
Natsumi  
oh god  
Hiko  
We got em?  
Natsumi  
do i have to  
Hiko  
Do you have to hang out with your two favorite people in the world on the most important holiday of the calendar year? Yes  
Natsumi  
what if i have plans  
Hiko  
You do. It’s hanging out with us  
Natsumi  
haha :) great :)  
Don’t people usually have parties on New Year’s.  
Natsumi  
i mean yeah but having a 3 person party is kinda sad  
Hiko  
Which is pretty damn on brand for us  
Four person party.  
Mochi.  
Hiko  
How could we forget  
I can host.  
Hiko  
I can try to make soba  
Natsumi  
never thought i’d say this but peko ur real lucky u cant eat  
Thank you.  
Hiko  
Fuck off  
?.  
Hiko  
Oh god I meant Natsumi not you i’m so fkucing sorry  
Natsumi  
yikes dude  
I forgive you.  
Natsumi  
gag

Peko had no idea how to prepare for a party so she mostly didn’t. She kicked some of Mochi’s toys out of the middle of the floor, braided her hair, and sat on her bed for approximately thirty-two minutes while she waited for the siblings to get there. 

Fuyuhiko showed up first. She knew it was him by the knock, a hello in morse code tapped out on her door. She opened it and he stood in the doorway, dressed in a full suit, head to toe pinstripe, takeout carton in hand.

“Turns out making soba in a shitty dorm microwave turns out about as well as you’d expect.” 

“Badly?”

“Yeah, if you’re being generous.” He said. Peko stood aside, held the door open and he wove past Mochi, who immediately began winding around his ankles. He set the food on Peko’s desk, looked down at the cat and put his hands on his hips. “This isn’t for you, asshole.” Mochi rolled onto her back, looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Maybe one noodle.” Peko said. Fuyuhiko poked Mochi’s stomach with his foot and she curled around it. 

“You’re lucky your mom’s nicer than I am.” He said, and Mochi immediately tried to sink her teeth into his foot. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Are you alright?” Peko asked, crossed the room, leaned against the desk.

“Yeah.” He said. “Your roommate’s fucking violent. I think she has yakuza ties.” Peko buzzed a laugh at that, looked at Mochi, who glared back with more vitriol than a creature her size should have been able to contain.

“Be nice.” Peko said, like scolding a toddler. The cat slunk away and busied herself trying to maim their shoes. “I hear she’s Kuzuryu-affiliated.”

He let out a low whistle, leaned in and Peko went warmheart, eyebeams skimming the freckles across his nose. “Damn, I hear they’re bad motherfuckers. We better keep our distance.” He stage-whispered.

“I don’t know, they’re not all bad.” Peko said. “I’ve met their son, he seems nice.”

“Thought that guy was an asshole.”

“No, he’s sweet.” Peko nudged his foot with hers. “He brought me noodles I can’t eat and wore a full suit to sit in my dorm.”

“That’s what you do! If you’re going to a party, you dress nice and you bring a gift. I don’t know what to tell ya, it’s simple etiquette.” He tugged at his tie. “I gotta feed Natsumi. If she gets hangry we won’t live to see midnight.”

“It’s alright, I was teasing.”

“I know.” He said. “And hey, I’m not a complete asshole. I did bring you something.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket, reached into the inner pocket and pulled out a red envelope. “Here. Sorry it wasn’t ready in time for Christmas. Turns out I know fuck-all about flowers.”

She ran her finger under the flap, pulled out a small piece of paper. Pressed on it was a sakura blossom, painstakingly pasted to the cardstock, pink as blood. It was a morbid thought, which she wouldn’t have thought twice about a year ago but things were different now. Better. Decidedly less morbid. 

He ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry if it’s stupid, I just--”

“It’s not.” She said. “I like it. Thank you.”

His face nearly split from his smile. “For real?”

“Yes. It’s pretty.” She looked at him, smiling to himself tugging at his cufflinks and her heartstrings. “You look very nice.” 

His whole face went pink. “You don’t gotta say that.” He looked down at the floor but she stopped him with a thumb under his chin, tilted his head up to look at her. His eyes were wide and her chest thrummed. 

“I mean it.”

“Oh.” He said. “You do too. I mean-- You look--” His tongue fought with itself for a few seconds until he settled on. “You look pretty.”

Her hand went hot against his face. She shoved it in her pocket, looked down to hide her smile. “I’m just in my uniform.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “And?”

She was suddenly unable to hide her smile. The flip in her chest was a little less obvious. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank  _ you _ for letting me even look at you. Seriously, it’s a fucking honor.” 

Words failed her so she just buzzed out his name, half-laughing, jabbed him in the side with her fingers. He squirmed, started giggling and she did it again. 

“Okay, okay!” He said. “I fold. And I’ll shut up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Thank god, I’m fucking incapable.” He rested his hand on the desk and she put hers on top of it. He looked down, back up at her, took a deep breath. “Speaking of saying things. I wanted to--”

With that, Natsumi opened the door. “Hey shitheads, you have earned my presence until midnight, so savor it. Mikan and her bitch girlfriend are hanging out tonight, which means they’re gonna fight, which means I gotta go see what happens.” She stopped in her tracks, watched Fuyuhiko pull his hand away and shove it in his pocket. “Or I could leave now.” 

“Absolutely not.” Fuyuhiko grabbed the takeout container, held it out to Natsumi. “Eat your fucking noodles. We’re gonna have the best New Year’s Eve of our goddamn lives.” 

“That’s a low bar.” Natsumi muttered, but she took the food. Peko grabbed some tape, hung the flower on her wall and when she turned back to the siblings, Hiko was grinning like he won the lottery. 

The three of them crowded into Peko’s bed and pulled  _ Kōhaku _ up on her laptop. Peko sat in the middle, takeout in her lap, Natsumi and Fuyuhiko picking at it from both sides and Peko tossing a noodle or two onto the floor for an ungrateful Mochi. 

The siblings finished their food pretty quick and Natsumi devolved into livetweeting insults at the performers. 

“Is that Ibuki?” Peko asked, pointed to a girl in the background and the show cut to her singing and sure enough, it was Ibuki Mioda. 

“Good for her.” Natsumi said, but apparently Ibuki wasn’t exempt from her wrath. She typed out  _ @69gecs your knee-high converse fucking suck.  _ “Hope she wins.”

Fuyuhiko pulled the blanket up to his chest, snuggled deeper into the bed. He could die happy here, able to have a normal holiday for the first time, well, ever. Wait, scratch that, a  _ good _ holiday. Natsumi leaned over, showed Peko something on her phone and Peko snorted a laugh. Whatever it was, he wasn’t privy to it, but his favorite girls on the damn planet were happy and that’s all that mattered. 

Natsumi leaned away, went back to texting something rapid-fire. Peko slouched away from her, which meant she slouched toward him. Under the blanket, he felt her fingers drift over the back of his hand, coming to rest right next to it. Instant goosebumps even though he was curled up warm beneath the comforter. He shot a glance at Natsumi, who was still scrolling through twitter, seemingly unaware. He tapped his pinky against Peko’s hand, a barely-there touch, an agreement, a go-ahead. She took his hand in hers, threaded their fingers together.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, because it simultaneously felt like one second and his whole life, but neither one of them pulled away. He ran his thumb across her knuckles, hand warmer than usual, soft heat. 

He focused on the TV instead of Peko holding his hand, because if he focused on that he’d melt into a puddle. He could only half-process what was happening on screen, it looked like Ibuki’s team was winning, but other than that everything was a Peko-induced blur. She kept squeezing his palm. 

Natsumi snapped them out of it. “Few seconds to midnight.” She said. “Three, two--” and sure enough, the bells began to ring. 

“Come on!” Natsumi said, rolled out of the bed and headed for the window, flung it open. The bells were louder now, glass thrown open to let the sound in. Fuyuhiko stumbled upright and let Peko drag him over. She climbed onto the windowsill despite the cold air pouring into the room. He followed suit, not sure what the fuck they were doing but having a great time. Natsumi wedged herself between them, leaned way too far out the window and they both flinched and grabbed her like the three foot fall would actually do any damage. They sat in the window, Peko leaning against the frame, eyes closed as she listened to the bells. 

“I always liked them.” She said.

He looked at her, heart warm despite the cold. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“Can you two stop flirting for one goddamn second so I can enjoy my New Year?” Natsumi asked. 

“Natsumi! Shut the  _ fuck up! _ ” Fuyuhiko slapped her shoulder and she leaned away, laughing, Peko held her up so she didn’t fall backward into the room. 

They were silent until the bells stopped, the last chime reverberating through the air. 

“Alright, I’ve savored it. Happy New Year, simps.” Natsumi climbed back into the room, graceless. 

“Happy New Year, shithead.” Fuyuhiko called after her. “Make good choices!”

“Nope!” Natsumi slid her shoes on, held up a middle finger. 

“Fuck you. Make terrible choices then. Come crying to me tomorrow about how bad your choices were.”

“Nope!” Natsumi said again, all smiles, grabbed the remnants of the takeout and breezes out of there so quickly she practically left a Natsumi-shaped dust cloud in her wake.

“Happy New Year!” Peko called after her, the door clicking shut. 

Peko turned back to him, eyebeams red in the night. A little smile on her lips. “Hey, Hiko. Happy New Year.”

He would never, ever get tired of her saying his name. Or used to it, he felt like grinning and crying, hopefully not at the same time because that’d be fucking bizarre. 

“Happy New Year.” He said, and it seemed like his face chose smiling, thank fuck. “Best one I’ve ever fucking had.”

“Me too.” She said. The wind bit at their clothes, cold crawling up their shoulders making him lean toward her like he was still that boy freezing half to death in the mountains. “Do you want to lay down?”

“Sure.” He stood up, stretched, let her lay claim to her side of the bed and get a headstart on stealing half the blankets. She held a hand out to him, caught his wrist and pulled him down onto the bed, laid his head in her lap. 

“Is this okay?” She asked.

He looked up at her, painfully aware that his face was turning bright red. “Yeah, sure.” 

He said, tried to sound casual, as if that was something he was fucking capable of. She started tracing the lines in his hair with her fingers, heat through his hair, comfort. If he was any less lovestruck he’d fall asleep right then and there, but he wasn’t, so he couldn’t. Instead he swallowed the lump in his throat, pretty sure it was his heart. 

“Look.” Peko said, volume hushed. 

He followed her gaze. Mochi was at the end of the bed, sitting there kneading the blanket like she was mad at it.

“Oh, look who finally decided to join the fucking party.” Fuyuhiko said. Like she knew he was insulting her, Mochi’s ears flattened. “You gonna be nice to your mom, or are we gonna have to have a conversation?”

Peko flicked him in the ear, a gentle tap. “She’s nice!” 

He laughed a little, mostly from the contact but also because Mochi was a lot of things but nice was  _ not _ one of them. “She’s bitten me five fucking times since I walked into your room.”

“She had a rough life. She has trouble showing affection.”

He looked at the cat, who had started furiously licking her paw. “Damn. You and me both, Moch.” 

Mochi blinked at him slowly, started purring. Peko boosted her fans, responded to the cat with a purr-like whir. 

“Ya know, I used to fucking hate holidays. But this is good.” He reached out, tried to beckon Mochi to no avail. Peko pointed her eyebeams on the sheets and Mochi swiped at them with her paws. 

“You’re right.” Peko said. “We should do this next year.”

“Done. Any excuse not to be around my fucking parents.” He said. Peko nodded her agreement, jaw set, literally getting heated, warm enough that the cold from the window wasn’t as biting any more. He chose his words with as much care as he possibly could. “Peko, what if we just didn’t?” 

She stopped with her gaze trained on the blankets, turned until her eyebeams were laser focused on his face. “What do you mean.”

His tongue caught in his throat because he just implied some large-scale terrifying bullshit and now he had to actually spit out what he was trying to say. “I gotta ask you something.”

Peko could tell he was nervous. She wasn’t sure when she learned to pick up that sort of thing, suspicion was second nature to her but it was much harder to catch emotional cues. But things were different with Fuyuhiko, of course. Things were always different with him. 

“Go ahead.” She said, kept her voice level and calm. 

He sat up, leaned against the headboard. “Do you--” He stopped, turned that sentence in a different direction. “And don’t fucking factor me into this, okay?”

Peko couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t factor him in. She didn’t want to. “Why not?”

“It’s-- Well--” His leg was bouncing like a rabbit’s. Peko put her hand on his knee and he froze in place, stared at her hand and then at her face. “What was I saying?”

“Mostly sentence fragments.”

“Great.” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Can I start over?”

“Of course.” 

His hands fell back to his sides, palm-down on the sheets. Peko put her hand on his and he moved with her fingers until they were laced together, put his head on her shoulder and stared straight forward. When he spoke, he whispered. “Any chance your room’s bugged?” 

“No.” She said, and he still hesitated. She didn’t blame him. “I checked this morning.”

“Okay.” He let out a breath, squeezed her hand. “If you didn’t have to go back to the compound, would you do it?”

“Yes.”

His head left her shoulder, whipped around to face her. “Why?”

“You’d be there.”

“Fuck, Peko, pretend I don’t exist for a second. Please.”

Peko forced a little air out between her teeth, as close to a huff as she can really get. “Fine.”

“Alright, I disappear from the fucking planet. Natsumi too, I guess. Do you go back to the compound?”

Peko was silent for a long, long time. “No.”

His thumb traced her knuckles. “Yeah. Me neither.” 

“Well, I figured as much. You disappeared from the planet.”

He snorted a laugh, rubbed his hand across his face again. “You fucking with me?”

Peko felt her lip twitch. “A little.”

“God dammit.” He put his other hand over hers, looked down like her sheets were the most interesting thing in the room. “You and Natsumi are the only thing that kept me there. Hell, you and Natsumi are the only thing that kept me fucking  _ alive.” _

Peko’s hand went hot but there was no way she was pulling away. She shifted so that she was completely facing him, eyebeams locked on his face the whole time. Low voice, low volume, she spoke. “What are you trying to say?”

“I wanna keep you safe. You’re my friend. My best friend, actually.” His eyes moved from the sheets to their clasped hands. “Stop me if this is stupid. But I was thinking we keep doing what we’re doing, being friends, not fucking going home over break and. Uh. When we graduate, we take Natsumi and split?”

Peko’s chest nearly caved in with the way her processor seized. Her free hand flew to the place her heart would be. His eyes went wide, hand left hers and cupped her cheek, steadied her.

“You oka--? 

She cut him off before he could finish the words. “Are you serious?” She asked. “For good?”

“Dead fucking serious. Six-feet-under serious. New life. No bullshit, no yakuza, no Kuzuryus.” His hand was still on her face, hot even though she was burning up. 

“Some Kuzuryus. A select few.”

“Peko, you don’t have to stick with us after all this, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Yes you can. Ask.” She looked him dead in the eye, reached up and put her hand over his because there was no way she could ask that but she could definitely answer.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them on the exhale. “Peko, do you wanna run away with me?”

“Yes.” 

She didn’t have to think about it. The answer sprung fully-formed from her lips without hesitance, no questions to be had here. Fans on full blast, faux-heart feeling especially real right about now. She knew this feeling. Joy. Maybe love. Maybe they were the same thing. She wrapped her arms around him in a clumsy hug and overestimated her own strength, ended up knocking him onto his back. 

Fuyuhiko looked up at her, at the smile catching at the corners of her mouth, her hand on his chest making his heart feel like a lit match. 

“Really?” He asked, heard the shake in his voice and fought the urge to swallow his whole fucking tongue.

“Yes Hiko.” 

His heart threw itself against her hand the second she said his name. She looked at him, lowered her eyebeams so she wouldn’t leave little sunspots on the insides of his eyelids, imprints of her gaze. If anyone else looked at him with that much care he’d assume it was pity but this was Peko. She looked at him without judgement, just quiet recognition. 

“Where are we going?” She asked. “When we leave, I mean.”

“No fucking clue, haven’t planned that far ahead.” A stray lock of her hair spilled onto his cheek. He reached up, tucked it behind her ear. “Ladies choice?”

“Okay.” She said, then “I have no ideas.” 

He laughed, and Peko watched him. The sight and the sound made her chest buzz. She waited until he stopped giggling, hit her with a lazy grin that made her hands go hot and her mouth return the smile.

“That’s fine.” He said. “We’ve got time.”

For once in her life, Peko didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t second-or-triple-guess.

She just kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally made a tumblr for this, you can find me at eyebleed if you have questions or want to heckle me in any way


	10. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK! Sorry for the delay, and sorry for the shorter chapter. I really wanted to get this one out for Valentine's Day so, here you go, hope you like it <3

It was an impulsive, reckless, painfully human thing to do. It was over nearly as quick as it started, a press of her lips against his and then the near-deafening sound of her fans whirring to life. Fuyuhiko froze, his hands in a death grip on her waist, lips soft against hers. 

She pulled away, hand to her mouth like she’d be able to feel some sort of change. He looked at her. He was red down his neck, a little lost for breath, confused. She didn’t blame him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, started to reach toward her but thought better of it, dropped his hands to his sides, his eyes near-shining with worry. 

“Yes.” And she was. Fans on high, chest a dull hum, hands warm, but okay. “I’m okay.” She said, felt the words buzz on her tongue as they left her mouth. A smile spread across her face, a little disbelief. “Hiko, I’m okay.”

“Thank god, thank fucking god.” He let out a breath and all the tension from his body went with it. She wasn’t far behind.

She collapsed onto him, fear out the window for the first time since she learned to feel it. She was okay. No shutdown, no bluescreen, no hard reset. Just normal glitching, one more string of error code she won’t ever try to correct. A laugh slid past her lips, a little hysterical, mostly relieved. He threw his arms around her, kept murmuring thanks to the air, words tugging at her heartstrings until they began to unravel, all the tightly-wound parts of her coming undone. 

Her chest thrummed, the feeling much less scary now. Then she realized she was laying on top of him, something else that was suddenly a lot less scary. Nice, even. Comforting. 

“You sure you’re good? I can go get-- I don’t know, Chihiro? Soda? Both?” 

“No.” She rested her hand on his face, cupped his jaw. “Stay here.”

Fuyuhiko’s heart felt like a time bomb, a detonator, a metric fuckton of TNT ready to blow. She put her other hand on his chest and instead of igniting he calmed immediately, soothed by her touch. She looked down at him like he was worth the softness in her gaze, the gentleness in the way she put her hand right over his heart. 

She was the only person that ever handled him like this. All slow motion and soft touch even in her own panic, careful around his sharp edges and soft heart. He knew he didn’t deserve it but she really made him feel like he did. He relaxed, leaned his face into her hand, warmth against his cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“What? What the fuck? Why are you apologizing?” 

She considered it. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Hell, I should be the sorry one.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve fucking imploded, Peko.”

“I’m the one that kissed you.”

His eyes flicked to her lips for a split second. “Oh. Yeah.”

The weight of the words hung in the air. 

“Was that--” She searched for the words, found absolutely none that weren’t awkward. “--Okay?” She winced at her own turn of phrase. Great, looks like she chose now to learn shame. 

“Yeah. Hell yeah.” Fuyuhiko started nodding and didn’t stop. “As long as it was okay for you?”

“Yes.” She said. “It was nice.”

“Yeah.” He was all breath when he spoke. “It was.”

Peko rested her forehead on his and he melted into her touch, all trust, barely rested his hands on the small of her back. “This okay?” He whispered, quiet enough that his voice nearly blended into the sound of her fans. 

“Yes.” She also kept her voice low, a little spark of adrenaline simmering through her wiring as his hands actually settled on her. Gently, nothing holding her to him, more support than restraint. His eyes were wide as he looked up at her, all patience, no pressure. She took the lead. 

Her nose bumped against his as she leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut. She could feel his breath on her lips, his hands on her back, trembling but still holding her. She was okay. She’d be okay. She could kiss him without fear. 

“Can I try that again?” She made her voice whisper-soft. 

He was quiet for approximately one second, but it felt like an eternity. She messed up. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want her. He was going to tell her that this was a bad idea, actually, that they shouldn’t push it, what the hell was she thinking? Why the fuck would she think this was okay? She should get off him right now, apologize, leave and find someone to put her back in working order but he stopped her spiral with a single word. 

“Yes.” 

Oh. _Oh._

“Okay.” She said, and slowly, she pressed her lips against his.

Her temperature gauge hit max, and she would have thanked god for her cooling system if she was focused on anything other than kissing and Hiko and kissing Hiko. He kissed her back like she would fall to pieces in his hands. She wouldn’t. She was shaking, but it had nothing to do with her hardware and everything to do with him. She could feel his heartbeat hammering just as fast as her processor. 

Fuyuhiko could feel electricity pulsing against him, or maybe that was his heartbeat. There was no way in hell this was actually happening. Peko kissed him. Peko was kissing him. She was so, so warm in his arms. He tilted his head more to the side, and she deepened the kiss. A small sound caught in his throat, but before he had time to be embarrassed about it, she hummed against his lips. He was going to melt. 

She pulled away slowly and just barely, her face still only a few inches from his. 

“Holy shit.” He whispered, breath shaky. “You okay?”

She nodded, a hand pressed to her chest as though she was taking stock of her insides. She probably was. “Yes. Are you okay?”

For maybe the second time in his life, words failed him. He gave a thumbs up. She laughed, the best sound he had ever heard, a sound he wanted to hear every day of his life and then some. 

Peko couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. Static in her system, all high alert but fear hadn’t hit yet. No way for it to get in, the only thing she was able to focus on was Hiko and the way he was looking at her. Drawn to him like an arrow let loose from an archer’s careful hand, she leaned forward, kissed him again. 

And jerked back immediately. Her body registered the sound of the door opening before her mind did. She pulled away like she’d been burned, hand flying to her back but met empty air. The sword was in the corner. Fear pulsed in her stomach like an electric shock. A list of nearby objects that could be used as melee weapons started running through her brain unbidden as she turned to the door. 

It was Natsumi, standing in the doorway, looking at them like a cat ready to play with her food. No danger. Thank god. Peko’s eyes darted back down to look at Hiko, whose hand had instinctually gone for the knife under his pillow. He relaxed at the sight of Natsumi, then immediately tensed back up at the sight of Natsumi. 

“Can you two stop making out long enough for me to get my bag? Please?” Natsumi rolled her eyes and walked into the room without waiting for an invitation. As though there was nothing strange about this. Peko almost wished she threw a tantrum, was scandalized, anything. The lack of fanfare made her skin crawl. When was the other shoe going to drop? 

Sooner than she thought. Like they choreographed it, the rest of Natsumi’s posse moved to stand idly in the doorway, Mikan taking up as little space as possible, lending to the illusion that Junko was blocking the exit. She placed one hand on the doorframe, tapped her nails there, little red bullets puncturing the wood. 

“Have you ever heard of fucking knocking?” Fuyuhiko scooted backward until his head bounced off the headboard, pulled the blanket up over his chest like it’d shield him. That snapped Peko out of it, she rolled off his lap, something in her stomach churning like radio static. 

“I don’t know, have you ever heard of fucking locking the door?” Natsumi asked, found her bag in the corner and slung it over her shoulder. “God, you two are getting soft.”

Junko’s nails continued to tap against the doorframe, quiet but with the urgency of machine gun fire, drowning out all the other noise in the room. No more fans whirring, nor more Kuzuryus bickering, just the sound of Junko’s nails drilling through Peko’s skull. Her eyes bore cold holes in Peko’s gaze, her stare punctuated with a grin but completely devoid of happiness, the only warmth in Junko’s face coming from Peko’s eyebeams, trained on her like a target.

“You have beautiful eyes.” She said.

“Excuse me.” Peko’s would-be heart thudded like a body hitting concrete. 

Her eyebeams were on. She blinked them away, eyes darting to Fuyuhiko, who hadn’t noticed because he was too busy telling Natsumi to _have some fucking manners and knock first_. Back to Junko, Mikan shrinking in her shadow like a violet shying away from the sun. 

“You heard me.” Junko shrugged. “They’re very unique.” 

Peko didn’t know how to respond to a threat in any way that wouldn’t end with blood on the floor. Her fingers curled into the sheets as she stared up at Junko like a cornered dog. Half-snarl, tail between her legs. Not sure what Junko would do with the information, not even sure if it mattered, but her wires were in knots, some sort of gut feeling telling her that she had made a grave error. 

“See ya later, sluts.” Natsumi called over her shoulder. 

“Hey! You fucking bastard child.” Fuyuhiko snapped. “Don’t fucking call Peko a slut. Apologize right now.”

Natsumi turned to Peko, put on her most sarcastic faux-serious face. “Sorry about your taste in men.” 

Fuyuhiko chucked a pillow at her before the sentence was fully out of her mouth. Natsumi ducked out of the room, laughing like all this wasn’t terrifying. And for her, it probably wasn’t. Must be nice. Oh great, a new feeling. Jealousy. Junko shot Peko a grin over her shoulder, waved a red-tipped hand. Peko didn’t return the gesture, looked at her with what she hoped was a glare, probably looked more like someone who’d just realized there was a target on their back. 

The door swung shut, and Peko and Fuyuhiko were left in dead silence. As usual, Hiko broke it. “Everyone in this fucking school needs to get a goddamn hobby.” He went to the door and turned the lock, it clicked, soft but final. He slid the chain into place for extra measure. “And maybe some fucking manners, while they’re at it.” He turned back to Peko, saw her sitting on the bed more tense than she’d been in months. All the complaints died on his tongue, worry creased at the corners of his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice soft. 

“Junko saw my eyebeams.” Even as she said it, Peko couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that meant for her, only that it meant something bad. 

“Shit.” Hiko sat down at the foot of the bed. “Want me to swear her to silence?” He pantomimed pulling a trigger. Peko smiled despite the fear eating at her. It was sweet. He was sweet.

A whole host of fears settled in her stomach, as hard to detangle as a box of wires. Junko Enoshima was out there holding Peko’s fate in the palm of her hand. Something very, very bad was going to happen to her. And to him. She had been found out, because she was stupid and reckless and stepped out of line. She should lose a pinky. Maybe more. The damage had already been done, and there was nothing she could do about it, short of taking Hiko up on his offer. It’s tempting to have all their problems taken care of in a wash of blood. 

But even she knew when something was overkill. Junko didn’t even have a motive for telling anyone about this. Wait. What if she did have a motive? Peko has been distracted recently, due to -- she looked at Fuyuhiko -- events. What would the motive be? Did the Ultimate Gyaru have yakuza ties? That could be it. She should stop powering down at night, keep the sword in hand at all times. _Why_ did this have to happen now?

She knew. Because she tempted fate. She kissed him and for some insane reason, thought that was okay. That’s what happens when you rebel: someone finds out. She was an idiot for ever convincing herself there wouldn’t be consequences for her actions. 

Hiko stared at her for once, instead of the other way around. Fitting, nothing made sense right now. He was waiting for an answer. Oh. She didn’t even bother to open her mouth, let her voice buzz from behind her closed lips. 

“No.” She sounded hollow. “That’s not necessary.” 

“Okay.” 

Fuyuhiko stood in the middle of the room, hands awkward at his sides. He knew two ways of dealing with problems: kill it, or wait for it to kill you. And it looked like the first option was off the table. He sat down next to Peko, twisted his rings around his fingers. Shit. What do you even say? _Sorry some girl might tell everyone you’re a robot, I don’t know what’ll happen to you either?_ Real comforting. _Sorry I kissed you and ruined your life, it won’t happen again?_ Well, the kissing won’t, that’s for sure. No reason she’d ever want to do that again, not with this kind of aftermath. And honestly, he should’ve apologized for ruining her life the day they fucking met. 

There he goes again, making her crisis all about him. Nice one, dickhead. He rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head like that’d clear the thoughts away. It didn’t, but it gave him a little bit of a headache. Good, he needed some kind of punishment for letting this happen.

“Is there something else I can do?” He asked. She just shook her head. Fuck. Okay. Try again. “Okay, uh. Here.” He grabbed his phone. “I’m gonna text Natsumi, get her to do some recon, we’ll figure out what the fuck the bitch thinks she’s gonna do with the information. How’s that?”

Peko was silent for a long time. “That’s fine.” 

He could hear her fans picking up speed, eyes unlit and locked on a blank spot on the wall. “Peko? I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you, okay?”

She blinked, turned to look at him. He looked so sincere. Like he actually believed there was anything that either of them could do at this point, other than wait for news of the Hope’s Peak robot girl to get back to the Kuzuryus. She was officially a liability, no discretion, tabloid-worthy and terrified. She signed her own death warrant, sealed it with a kiss. 

“It’s late.” She said, stood up and walked to the corner, grabbed the sword. Finally, something she has complete control over. The sheath hit the floor. She kept her back to him as she cut an arc through the air, perfect form. The light bounced off the blade, reflected back directly into her eyes. If she were human, it would have been near-blinding. 

“Do you wanna go to bed?” 

“That would be best.” She turned back to him, avoided eye contact. 

“Should I leave?” 

She shouldn’t be around him. 

She shouldn’t compromise his safety either. “No.”

Pajamas. Lights off. Charger. They went through the motions. Instead of laying down next to him, she sat up, back to the headboard so she had eyes on the door and the window. She clutched the sword, didn't power down. He held his hand out to her in the night, palm up. Despite all the want burning up in her chest, she gripped the sword tighter, didn't take it.


End file.
